The Day That Marked the End of the World
by bellatrix-la-dumb
Summary: This is a tale about the end of the world. From the moment the Darkness was set free upon the Earth to the bitter last breaths of the few survivors left. In between are disturbing horrors no person should know. But these stories need to be told. Alternate Darkness/alternate season 11. Apocalypse.
1. This Was Just the Beginning

_**One day, the angels will save us.**_

 _ **They will come from the sky, golden sunlight**_

 _ **raindrops, singing songs of saviors.**_

 _ **Our hands will stretch up to the sun, grasping at their feathered wings, warm in the light of heaven.**_

 _ **They will pull us by our fingers tips, up like air**_

 _ **balloon clouds, up to the silver linings.**_

 _ **Our prayers will be answered, sky bound starlight wrapping us in love, whispering hope into our ears.**_

 _ **And then, as we see the entrance, shining in**_

 _ **blistering beauty, they will let go,**_

 _ **And watch us plummet back to earth again.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1- This Was Just the Beginning**_

It all started with a selfish choice.

So long ago, days winding into months winding into years. I lost count a long time ago. But I still remember the moment as clear as day. The day that marked the end of the world.

I didn't know the repercussions of my actions back then. All I knew was that he couldn't be alone. I couldn't let Sammy go. I didn't realize how self-centered I was being. Now, I realize. Saving Sam over saving the world was a fate I can't reverse. Not this time. It is far too late now.

If I could go back in time, if I could change my mistakes, would I make the same choice again?

No.

Never.

Even with the things I have seen, the things I have done, I would not make that choice.

The choice that would mark the beginning of the end.

I would do anything to be able to undo everything, hit the big back space on life. Rewind time to that very moment, in that church, when I took Sam's shaking hands in mine, seeing the glow of the trials fade from his skin. Out by the Impala, as the world went silent, holding its breath as the stars fell from the sky. When I could barely see the life go out of Sam over the dying grace that shone like sunlight, burnt the world like fire. When I screamed along with the angles who lost their homes, their everything, because I thought that I had lost the same, holding the limp body of my broken brother in my arms. When I prayed out desperately in that hospital, shoulders slumped in exhaustion, tears crying out in desperation as I let that _thing_ take over my brother.

If I had known, if I had known everything that would come after that, that choice I made, I would have let Sam go.

Because from that moment on, the world fell apart at the seams.

It started with Abbadon, escaping through the gate we should have closed, Sam should have closed. She was more powerful than I could have ever fathomed. Powerful enough to scare me into taking on the Mark of Cain, the mark of all evil. I took it on knowing nothing, blindly grasping at straws to fix the mess that was all my fault, no matter how many people I blamed for my failures. It was I who gritted through the months searching for the Knight of Hell, on the brink of snapping, on the brink of hurting someone I cared for. I was the one who wasn't strong enough to harness all that power, who wasted it on innocents, on pushing away the only family I had left.

But after I had killed Abbadon, I thought everything was over, that everything was finally whole again after being broken for so long. But it only got worse. That was when I learned the true secrets of the Mark, all its poison, its nefarious power, its complete and utter control over me. And then, Metatron killed me. He did the right thing, dispose of the threat, rid the world of a force that lethal. But the Mark would never let me go that easily. Those months as a demon were the worst of my life. Worse than Purgatory, worse than hell. Because I was completely aware. I wasn't possessed. I was me. I try to tell myself that the Mark twisted me, using its evil to contort me into some sort of devilish version of myself, but that would be a lie, because the Mark didn't influence me at all. Black eyes bring out the darkest parts of you. The parts that you secretly wish could be set free, your deepest and most hidden desires. _It was all me._

But, of course, Sam, my loyal brother, worked his magic and brought me back, made me me again. And he had me, for a little while. And everything was good again. Until we all realized that the Mark was still there, still filling my veins with fire and making me lust for blood, for killing, maiming, dismembering, carving-

Well, yeah. But of course, he wanted to fix that too. No matter how much I protested, saying how it was too dangerous, too risky. But he never listened. He went behind my back, betrayed my trust even though I had betrayed him so many times before, and found a cure. And I don't care how many times he would say it was all his fault, it wasn't. He didn't know. He didn't know what the Mark truly was, the force it locked away. He didn't hear the words uttered by Death himself, the insane plan he layed out, the choice he gave me. A choice I was so ready to make, false strength pumping through me, the sweet seduction of the Mark making my hands grasp the scythe above my own brother's head, ready to swing. But Sam, the look on his face, so reminiscent of those given when he was a child, begging for the last of the Lucky Charms, begging me to let him go, to set him free from our life. The look of pure imploration, eyes searching for the last remnants of his older brother, his protector, his only family. Those pictures, taken from my room, grasped between his trembling fingers. That was the only time I ever saw him truly scared, staring up at me with blood and bruises painting his skin, holding out the photos as a last attempt to save his life. As a last attempt to save me.

And then, the world went silent. For a split second, there was nothing but the pumping of blood in my ears and whispering of Death's ashes on the ground. In that moment, I realized that once again, I made the wrong choice. I chose myself, again. I chose my own life over the world. The lives of everyone I'd ever met, ever saved, were suddenly useless compared to my fear of being alone. But I couldn't let Sam go. I was to afraid of losing everything we had worked for, losing the future I dreamed of, where we could have normal lives, where Sam could finally be free like he always wished.

But, if I had only known how far from that dream we were.

We watched as the world was consumed by the Darkness.

And then we ran.

We ran from the big bad, the biggest and the baddest of them all, that once again had been released by our hands. Everything that we had done after I made that first terrible choice led up to that point, us sprinting across the ground as it was ripped apart beneath our feet, long fingers of black smoke springing from the earth, closing in around us. Every heart beat felt like a clock counting down the seconds left in our existence, the world whirling by as we sprinted for the car, for salvation. I held my breath as we watched the sky go black, the darkness swallowing the sun and plunging us into a false night.

That was the start of the end of the world.

After we got away, we drove. Drove night and day to escape the growing storm cloud, watching as it tailed us, it's shadow barely a few feet away at times. We listened to radio reports, saying that the storm was the biggest the world has ever seen, playing it off as a natural occurrence, nothing to be afraid of. But everywhere it covered saw no sun, and it knocked out the power in every city it touched. People were getting scared. They thought it was another apocalypse, a sign from god, an alien invasion. They fled, just like us, jumping in their cars and following the sun, using it as a beacon, hoping that there was somewhere on Earth that was still light.

Sam and I didn't know what to do. We did what little research we could when we were ahead of the Darkness, taking quick stops at libraries to look up anything we could find on the Darkness. But we never got very far before the lights started going out and we looked out the window to see the foreboding clouds rolling across the blue sky, felt the deep rumble of it in our bones. People in places it hadn't covered yet were packing up, selling their houses and belongings and getting out of there, booking it the opposite way from the building storm. Highways got clogged quickly. Soon every road you found was backed up with traffic for miles. It wasn't long before people started abandoning their cars and walking, stuffing everything they could in the bags they had and lugging it with them. Sam and I followed them soon after. I didn't want to leave behind the Impala, but it was our only choice. There was no way we could outrun the Darkness when we were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic. So, we emptied the trunk of all its contents, and left, leaving behind the only home we ever had, ever loved.

We met several people on our trek. A real community formed between those who thought their best choice was to up and leave their towns, their families, to escape this huge black thing that painted the sky, growing bigger each day. It was strange to see how everyone was going the same way, but no one had an actual destination in mind. They all knew that they just had to walk each day and sleep each night, but never thought of the future, where they were going, where they would end up. All we did was follow the crowd.

It became normal, weeks of traveling, heading south at all costs, stopping in a lighted city every night, crowding in motels, restaurants, or abandoned houses for sleep. Most places we came upon were already empty, left for the dead by people who wanted a head start. Cars were left in streets, parked in driveways still running, doors unlocked, houses left just as they were, before their inhabitants jumped up and ran, along with their neighbors, their coworkers, their barbers, their dentists, their lawyers. Soon the whole country was moving, a huge migration, unlike any for thousands of years. The storm covered half of the United States, growing out from the epicenter where I lost the Mark, an enormous circle of destruction making its way across oceans, closing in on other continents. Other countries were panicking, unsure of what to do once it hit them. Governments were demanding research on it, wanting answers as to what exactly it was. But no one knew. It wasn't like any other storm or natural disaster that had ever occurred. Scientists couldn't identify it. They were stumped. All they knew was that it was, dark, and scary, knocked everyone's power out, and moved approximately a mile a day. That was enough to get people running.

But people started to give up. Many grew too tired, some were too old, too young, to go so far. Others grew hopeless, seeing no point in walking to our ends when we knew the Darkness would eventually swallow us whole. There was nowhere to go, no place you could escape it. They left us, trying to convince others to follow them to live in the Darkness, embrace it. They thought there was nothing to fear, nothing that could hurt them. But they were wrong. I knew that the Darkness was more than a huge blackout. Something that took God and all his angles to fight back could not be just a big smoke cloud.

But the more we walked, the more unsure we grew. We were reaching the end, closing in on the Gulf. Many wanted to continue into Mexico, but word was that they were closing their borders and shooting anyone who approached. It all sounded like a bunch of conspiracy nonsense, but the more I heard about it, the more I believed. Sam was weary of continuing on, but there seemed to be no other choice. The only place to go was forward, trekking on into the sun, keeping the Darkness at our backs. I couldn't stand to face it, knowing that it was I who brought it here. It's bad enough knowing it is always right behind you, looming over your shoulder, always ready to strike. There's nowhere you can go where you can't see it. Everywhere you turn, it is right there, rippling and rolling like black ocean waves, crawling closer and closer, the deep rumble that follows it shaking the earth, resonating in my chest. It never goes away.

But we never made it to the border. It took me several weeks to realize, but I finally did. All it took was seeing a small girl get beat to the ground for a single water bottle for the smoke to clear from my head. It was in that moment that I came to comprehend just how deep in the muck we were. It was like a blindfold had been pulled from my eyes, and I saw the world as sharp as glass. People were changing. Society was collapsing. Just a few weeks in, and what had held us so tightly together was snapping apart stitch by stitch. Family pets brought along as faithful companions were being stolen in the night and cooked up by the desperate. Children wandered around covered in their own filth, crying out for their parents. Young girls were being dragged from their hovels kicking and screaming and no one did anything to save them. And I never saw any of it. I was too busy pissing my pants about the fucking Darkness to see what corruption was going on around me. But I still didn't do shit about it.

We ran. We fled from it all, too overwhelmed to find a solution, too scared to face it all. We pulled away from the group, taking a rest stop at the nearest city and picking a nice house to crash in, where I regrettably got the best sleep I had in weeks. We stayed there for a few days, rummaging through library shelves, school classrooms, random houses. But it didn't take long before the Darkness caught up. We were in the middle of a mess of papers and ancient books in one of the town's small libraries when the whole building shook, the lights flickering off, plunging us into complete silence. That was when I realized _why_ everyone was running. There is something so comforting about being ahead of the Darkness, living in the light. The destruction was all behind you, it wasn't your problem. But when you had to sit and watch as the clouds reached the horizon and sealed you in complete darkness, you felt trapped, suffocated. And as the days went on, the Darkness's fingers only reached farther, the dark only getting darker as our battery powered lights and appliances died, I only grew more restless, the weight of claustrophobia crushing my chest, making it hard to breath, hard to think. I never thought that something as freeing as the sky could be stolen from us, capping us off from the stars and planets above that assured us that we weren't alone. I didn't know how much I loved the sun until I couldn't see it, feel its warmth on my skin. It was so cold now. It was colder than any winter I had lived through. And with no electricity, there was no heating in any of the houses. We had to wear coats we stole from other peoples' closets to keep warm. It was so quiet. There was no way to communicate with anyone. The cloud cut off any satellite connections or radio waves. We were completely alone.

I lost count of how many days we were there. There were a few battery operate clocks we found lying around, but I eventually stopped looking at them. It didn't matter anymore. There was no day, no night. Just complete and utter darkness, 24/7.

When we didn't find any info on the Darkness, we moved on to the next town. Then the next. Then the next. We never found much, just mentions or theories about Darkness, never anything helpful. We lived by flashlights, firelight if we were lucky enough to find working lighters. Good food left in stores and houses were long past expired, so we mostly ate junk food left on drug store shelves, stuffed in the backs of pantries and cabinets. Sometimes we would stumble upon small backyard gardens, digging in the dirt for any surviving fruits or veggies. Those were the only times I was grateful for rabbit food. But the one time Sam caught a few ducks wading in a grimy swimming pool was one of the few times we had a good meal.

We met a few people that were walking through, who still had hope of reaching the light. We didn't stop them, just asking what the knew about the outside world. Most knew just as much as us, others saying that they heard from someone who heard from someone that the Darkness had made it past England and was moving into Asia and Africa. Some said that it had already covered all of the Americas and was crawling across the arctic circle. Either way, the Darkness wasn't slowing.

* * *

Months had passed since I had released the Darkness. It was hard to find food you didn't have to kill first. Getting gas for stolen cars was difficult, most gas stations being ravaged and cleaned out long ago. You were lucky to find running water, let alone clean water. Living in the area that people had left behind was fine at first, but the farther in you went, the less resources were left. People had already trampled through, run the places dry. But we had to keep looking. There had to be an answer somewhere. _Someone_ other than God had to know how to shut up the Darkness again. Everywhere we looked we came up empty handed, but we kept moving on, hope keeping us on our feet, keeping us moving.

That is, until Cas showed up.

The first thing I did was punch him in the face. Sam scolded me for it, but what did he expect? I had been praying to that little winged rat for ages, every time I woke up, when I went to sleep. I prayed to him each time I choked down hopless tears when Sam was asleep, because I was so friggen lost. But he never answered. I started to think that the Darkness blocked my messages to him, after many desperate confessions and threats left me feeling more alone than ever, but Cas said he heard everything, which was a little embarrassing on my part, but he didn't seem to care. He went on about how he killed Crowley, how he felt the Darkness as it ripped the universe apart, and how he has been in heaven ever since, helping the angels as they frantically ran around instead of getting a damn thing done. That is what made me angry, knowing that we were literally the only ones in the universe trying to fix this mess I made. But Cas was adimate that there was nothing that could be done unless God was here, and that he and the other angels were searching the darkest corners of the universe to find him.

He also almost forgot to mention that the Darkness was only days away from engulfing the entire planet. That sure was assuring. Even Sam got angry then, screaming at Cas, asking how in heaven all of God's angles couldn't even stop a big storm cloud. I mean, I agreed with him. They literally pulled us both out of hell just 'cause they wanted to. But they can't bag a cloud of literal darkness? Or at least find their own father?

He left soon after, whether it was because he was needed in heaven, or he was afraid of being on the receiving end of some Winchester wrath. But everything went back to normal. Well, as normal as it can be when your world is about to cloaked in complete darkness.

Until Cas came back a few days later, stumbling into the run down house we were slumming in, wide-eyed and panicked, talking so fast that it took me a second to understand what he was saying.

"The Darkness has closed around the Earth. And it has made it to heaven."

* * *

 **Hello again! I said I would be back. So, this story has been in the making for a while, and I originally planned for it to be just one chapter, but I just couldn't fit all of my ideas into a moderately lengthed chapter. So, this should end up being about four or five chapters long, ideally, but I am not sure.**

 **But my idea for this story is basically just what I would have made season 11 like. This is what I wanted it to be, and still want it to be, and dream of it being, but sadly, my dreams will only ever play out in fanfiction. It is all the same as the show up until the season 10 finale, and then it turns into my story, obviously. So, just think of this as the prologue. And, I am not sure if I want to go on with the whole 'Dean's diary' type of writing, or if I want to go into more detail with everything and have actual dialogue. I don't know. Why don't you all tell me what you think the rest of the chapters should be like, if you liked the descriptions or if you want more dialogue?**

 **Remember, reviews are highly appreciated!**


	2. The Day the Earth Stood Still

**.**

 **The angels took the stars away.  
**** ***** * ***** * ***** *  
 **One by one, they blinked out of the sky,  
**** ***** * ***** * *****  
 **Like broken Christmas lights.  
**** ***** * ***** *  
 **Each night we would sit on our roof top,  
**** ***** * *****  
 **Tears running as the lights would burn out.  
**** ***** *  
 **Last night the last star turned off,  
**** *****  
 **The night sky a blank slab of darkness.  
****  
 **We thought that was the end of it,  
***  
 ** _But the sun did not rise this morning._**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2- The Day the Earth Stood Still**_

It only took us a few days to realize that covering the world up in the universe's fart clouds wasn't the Darkness's only plan.

Cas informed us that the Darkness skipped the angel training program and crashed straight through the pearly gates, shortly after it finally sealed us in. He slipped through at the last second before it closed up, but he caught a snip of the angels screaming over angel radio, talking about the Darkness breaking into heaven. But after the last rays of sunlight were blocked out, there was nothing. He was completely cut off, no angel radio, no getting out. He was just as trapped as we were.

He also told us that the whole world was in a state of panic. There wasn't a single light on on the entire planet. No lights, no heating, no phones, no internet, nothing. Back to the stone ages, I guess.

Cas used some of his angel mojo to hook us up with some food from some place in Asia, were ever it was freshest. We had a little feast while we went over everything we knew, which turned out to pretty much nothing. All we had was the fact that we could do diddly-squat without God's help. And we wouldn't even know if the angels were making any progress finding him, since our messenger had just gotten his wings clipped. But since they were then preoccupied with the Darkness, they probably didn't have the time.

"So, Cas, do you think you can zap us back to the Bunker?" All that running around, running in fear from the Darkness, reminded me of our childhood, Dad bursting into the motel room in the middle of the night, frantically throwing his stuff into his bags, telling us to do so as well. I remember how terrifying it was to see him like that, screaming at us to run, locking us all in the car and just driving away as fast as we could, always keeping an eye on our backs. It was in those moments where the high pedestal I held my father atop of crumbled a little bit, the fear in his eyes so real, so true. He wasn't as brave as I believed him to be.

And we weren't either.

"Yes, I can. That should be fairly easy."

"No, I mean, is it safe there? Has anyone ransacked it? Could there be people in there?" I asked, wiping my hands on my shirt. It's not like it could get any dirtier.

"Yes, just let me check." The second the last word left his mouth, he was gone, fluttering the food wrappers and papers littering the table. I gave Sam an annoyed look, barely able to take a breath before Castiel was sitting in front us again, almost as if he was never gone in the first place.

"The Bunker is just as you left it. It should be safe to go back at any time you chose."

I looked back to Sam, shrugging at the mirrored look on his face. "Okay, let's just go now."

Cas didn't say a word, just reaching over and pressing his fingers to our foreheads. Next thing I knew, I was falling on my butt in a dizzying blur of color, rapidly blinking the spots out of my eyes. Cas was standing over us, looking down at me with that stupid blank expression. But then I realized where we were. _Home_. Or at least the closest thing we had to one that wasn't a hulking metal death trap. (A hulking metal death trap that I loved.) I could smell the books before anything else, the familiar scent of rotting paper and molding pages sudden and sweet. I was on my feet in a second, eyes searching around through the permanent darkness for everything I had grown to miss without realizing it. My fingers roamed the bookshelves, trailed along the walls, feet finding the creaky floor boards, the old stained carpets. It wasn't until my eyes adjusted that I made it to my room, collapsing on my bed with a smile foreign on my cheeks. Sam was at my door soon after, his feint grin barely visible in the dark.

"Man, I can't believe how much I missed this place," he said, leaning on my door frame.

"Yeah, home sweet home. It's hard to think that we just let this place behind. I shouldn't have made us keep running. It seriously got us nowhere."

"No, it's fine, Dean, really. We were all caught up in the madness. Running was the only option at the time. We're just lucky that Cas got locked up with us, or we probably would have never made it all the way back here." He sniffed, looking down at his feet, his form barely visible through all the layers of clothes.

"Well, it still sucks that there is no power. I mean, we're not any better here than any other place. All we have is tons of books and a bunch of super old artifacts. They won't do much good for keeping us warm and fed." I sat up on the edge of the bed, a smirk growing on my face. "Unless we burnt the books. Maybe we could eat the paper too. I bet that would be fun."

I could only imagine the look of horror on Sam's face as he shook his head and left. I could hear each of his steps, the loud buzzing of the lights and humming of old energy gone, taken away by the Darkness, letting an eerie silence settle over the Bunker.

It wasn't a minute later that Sam came stomping back, a stiff shadow in my doorway once again. "Uh, you might want to come out here. We have a problem."

I jumped up followed him to the kitchen to see Castiel with his head in the refrigerator, pulling things out and tossing them straight on the floor. It took me a second to register the smell. The scent of old dumpsters or porta-potties left out in the sun all day. It made me gag, slapping a hand over my mouth to hold in my lurching stomach.

"Yeah, all the food is about five months expired," Sam said, his nose crinkling in disgust.

"Aw, seriously? Fuck!" I exclaimed, kicking a bag of soggy apples at my feet.

Sam looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "What? Did you expect it all to be exactly how we left it?"

"No, it's just that...we have to deal with all this now," I sighed, trudging forward to help Castiel with all the rotting food.

"Well, it's either live with the smell, or get rid of it."

We found a few garbage bags and stuffed all the food in them, trying not to throw up all over the place the whole time. I thought that dead bodies were gross, but when you can't tell what a food is because it is so coated in mold, or when you find milk so spoiled that it is as thick as Jell-O, you start to think you would rather be digging up corpses in the cemetery.

We ended up dumping all the "degradable" stuff, as Sam put it, in the woods about a quarter mile away from the bunker. The rest was thrown out in the big ditch on the edge of the tree line, to be left until we found a better place to dispose of it. It wasn't likely that the garbage man was going to roll up in his truck and take it all away in the middle of the apocalypse, or whatever this was.

Then we set on to researching. We scavenged through book after book, file after file, Cas meanwhile setting fires in each of the fire places and lighting every candle we had, an attempt at some semblance of a normal life, well more like a medieval life, reading by firelight like some kind of village peasants. But at least it was warm. After months of an arctic winter so cold that it left ice in my bones, it was comforting to actually put a use to all of the many fire places.

But the comfort didn't last. We were up for days, it seemed, making our way through shelves of books, cabinets of folders, every locked box and safe in the whole Bunker. Every small reference led to the hope of finding something in the next book, and the next, and the next. But we always came up empty handed, the only text of any importance saying that the Darkness was the most powerful thing in the universe, other than God himself, and could only be brought down by his hand. What we didn't find was anything about what the Darkness actually was, what it could do, or where the hell it came from. This wasn't like any of our old hunts. We didn't have years of compiled knowledge on our hands. Even the goddamned Men of Letters didn't know shit. No one expected to have the Darkness unleashed on this world again, most didn't even know what it was. So, after days of freezing our asses off and taking turns going out to hunt down some food, we finally just gave up. Well, I gave up, throwing my books across the room and knocking everything off of one of the tables before going out to shoot some stuff without saying another word.

That was when things changed.

I was about a mile out, armed with my shot gun and a small flash light. The anger and hopelessness were hot coals in my stomach, hands tight around the rifle as they slowly fizzled out. The forest was completely silent, still as a painting. It was all so deafening, the quiet that came along with the darkness. The hum of life, of machines and people and the earth was stolen, sucked up along with the light and the stars. It was as if the whole world was frozen in one moment in time, as if the Earth had stopped moving and everything had stopped existing. No noise, no light, no warmth, no weather, no change.

Hunting was getting harder, few animals able to survive in the severe cold, most plants already withered and dead in the lack of sun and rain. Everything was brown and brittle, the ground a grave of fallen leaves and rotting foliage. No food for the herbivores, no food for the carnivores, no food for us.

Attempting to not be deterred by the complete and utter lack of everything, I was about to move further into the dense trees, hoping to find something to quell the growling in my stomach, when the world exploded.

A light brighter than any sun stabbed daggers into my eyes before I slammed them shut, the sound of a thousand drum beats all at once ripping through my ear drums, the ground dropping out from under me and leaving me falling forever.

And then it was all over.

My eyes were blinded with blue spots, ears ringing, back cold and stiff against the hard ground. The breath was knocked out of my lungs, leaving me gasping and grabbing at something to help me get back on my feet. Tree bark scraped my fingers, the smell of mud clogging my nose. It took a while to sit up even, head spinning and stomach churning to the point that I couldn't tell which way was up.

The scream is what got me running.

The loudest, most blood curdling, inhuman scream I have ever heard, so loud that it caused birds to flock from their hiding places and fill the sky with their noise. For a moment, it drowned out the screaming, feathers flying, the whole sky looking like it was moving, black on black.

I was on my feet in seconds, gun in hand, sprinting through the cacophony and chaos, barely dodging trees and branches as I searched for the source of the tortured soul. Each step was a breath take, feet pounding and chest heaving. I had never run so fast in my life, and I didn't even know what would be at the end of my path. All I knew was that something was wrong, and it was my primal instinct to stop any trouble.

I almost tripped trying to stop in my tracks when I met a clearing. In the dark, I could barely make out a form a few feet away, the screeches so piercing that I had to cover my ears to stop them from bleeding or something. The thing- _person_ -was in pain. I could tell that much. They were writhing around in the dark, kneeling on the ground in the center of the clearing, not even taking a notice to me.

That was, until I decided to turn my flashlight on for a better look.

It had barely been on a second before and unearthly shriek echoed through the trees and the thing was barreling toward me. I saw a flash of it before it pounced on me, pale skin, dark hair, small nose, gaping mouth, snapping teeth, black eyes. The ground punched me in the back, my head cracking against an exposed tree root. I couldn't breathe as the thing ravaged my chest, growling and screaming, nails clawing through my shirt, fists pounding on my skin. It was insanity, complete and utter madness and my hands were grasping arms and hair and clothes in an attempt to get it off. Slobbering and snapping, rabid, ferocious, vicious, monstrous. I was floundering like a fish, panicked and terrified, my gun fallen and a few feet away, my arms not strong enough to shove the creature off.

Its face was just inches away from mine, something born of a nightmare. Feminine, with long dark hair that hung in my eyes and tickled my cheeks. But her skin was charred, burned pink and brown, blood a red mask, dripping and still fresh and rank. All I could see was teeth, barely held back from my face with my forearm. Half of her face was ripped off. Skin, muscles, bones, gone. From ear to nose, all there was was chipped and rotten teeth, exposed cheek bone and half of a lower jaw, tongue hanging out and dripping saliva on my face. She had no eyes. Just empty sockets, as if her eyes had just burst out her skull, leaving bits of muscle and torn flesh hanging and bloody out of her black hole eyes.

My free hand groped the ground for something, my gun, my flashlight, a rock. A rock. My fingers latched around a large rock and in seconds it was slamming against her skull and I was on my stomach and scrambling for my gun. My finger was on the trigger as I turned around and the bullet was buried in her chest before I could even blink. She fell to the ground with a soft _thud!,_ and silence engulfed the world again. All there was was my labored breaths, and the startled birds settling back into the trees like nothing ever happened. My flashlight cast a beam of golden light across the brush on the ground where the girl was when I found her. I noticed that the ground was clear in some spots, the light showing on singed earth in sharp patterns where the grass and leaves were burned away. I hefted myself up and picked up the flashlight, shining it on the ground, revealing a circle of broken dirt, a shallow hole in the center, lines branching out from it like cracks, like lightning bolts.

I turned the flashlight on myself, blood oozing and glistening on my chest through the holes in my shirt, the claw marks just breaking the skin. But they still stung like hell, though.

Stepping back over to the girl, the light letting out the secrets that the darkness holds so close. I could see that the girl was wearing a dirty T-shirt and ripped jeans, and several coats, all burned. The bottoms of her shoes had melted to her feet, the smell of burning rubber and burning flesh still heavy in the air. Jagged lines ribboned her skin, in the same pattern as the forest floor, a lightning strike preserved in her cooling skin. A backpack was strung across her shoulders, and when I finally managed to get it off her, I found that it contained the charred remains of a few pairs of extra clothes, two bags of chips, beef jerky, a metal water bottle, a small hunting knife, and a half empty box of matches. She seemed like she was just passing through here, maybe looking for food like me, maybe she saw the smoke rising from our chimneys and thought that she could find shelter. Maybe she was lost out here all alone, left for dead, and was trying her hardest to survive. Maybe she was just like us.

But then that light struck her, tore her apart, warped her mind, turned her into the enemy.

That light that was so unlike anything I had ever heard about, so new, so terrifying. A phenomenon never before seen. Lightning that existed in a lightless world, came from the black slab of a sky that bared no weather, no storms. That light came from the Darkness.

That was when I knew that the Darkness was just getting started.

* * *

 **Hello again! I know that I took a while to update, but if you know me, this is actually early for me. Just future reference, you should know that I am a very infrequent and random updater. And I will apologize in advance for that, even though I will probably apologize again anyways.**

 **But whatever. I hope that you like this chapter. I got inspiration for it from _The 5th Wave_ which I just started reading today and it is AMAZING. So, if you haven't read it, I would definitely recommend to read it, because it is one of the best books I have ever read, and that is saying a lot. **

**Anyways, review are highly appreciated. They are a writer's only source of nourishment.**


	3. Nightlight

_**.**_

 _ **Flowers drip with cool coal rain**_  
 _ **Coughing putrid butterflies**_  
 _ **Trees sway naked in the freezing wind**_  
 _ **Grass shrivels like rotten apple cores**_  
 _ **Forest foals lay rotting**_  
 _ **Bones display the carnage**_  
 _ **Sun a distant memory**_  
 _ **Sky a swollen midnight**_  
 _ **No stars to sing their melodies**_  
 _ **No light to guide our weary feet**_

 **Death is all around us**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 3_ - _Nightlight_**

It was a surprise for Sam and Cas when I walked in with not with the day's catch, but instead the dead body of the girl slung over my shoulder.

But of course, the first thing Sam noticed was how clawed up I was.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice on the verge of panic as he strode up to me, an open book dangling forgotten from his fingertips.

"Yeah, m'fine, just clear off a table or something so I can lay this chick down," I said, my voice wilting as I let out a heavy sigh. That was when I realized just how tired I was, sagging under the weight of the girl, the weight of those past days. With this new problem, it all had become too much, and I was already dreading what was to come. It all just wore me to the bone.

Sam and Cas set to clearing off the counter in the kitchen, Sam getting all pissy about having the right lighting, Cas just following along. I stood in the doorway, barely able to stay on my feet, too exhausted to be annoyed. It was all just noise to me, along with the high-pitched ringing that still plagued my ears from the lighting blast.

Finally, I laid the girl down on the counter, cold and metal like an examining table. What a literal weight off my shoulders.

"What happened?" Sam asked, gloved hands positioning the girl's limbs. Castiel was holding a lantern, peering over at her face with squinted eyes.

"Uh, a big light came from the sky, struck the girl, I'm guessing. She was just walking through-" I realized that I still had her bag slung over my shoulder. I took it off, setting it on the counter. "She had this with her, seemed like she was coming this way for shelter. She might have been lost."

"So you think the light did this to her?" Sam asked, looking up from her face that he was inspecting.

"Yeah, did you see it? I was only a few yards away from where it struck. It left a crater and everything. I ran over there when I heard the girl screaming."

"Yeah, we saw it from the window. It was far too bright to be normal lightning. It shook the whole bunker too. Made one of the windows break."

"Great." I sighed. "Well, this girl attacked me when I got to her. She was like that when I found her. I had to shoot her to get her off me."

"So, she went down with just a normal bullet?"

"Yeah, I guess she is still human. That light changed her, though."

"Well, physically, it seems like the effect of extremely high voltage." He turned over her arm, tracing a finger over the lighting scars. "But any kind of exposure that high would kill you in an instant. There is no way she could have survived that."

"You said that it couldn't be any normal lightning. Maybe it came from the Darkness." I leaned against the cabinets, pulling at my shirt so it wouldn't chafe at my raw skin.

"Cas, go help him get cleaned up," Sam ordered, eyes glossing over my discomfort before going to the girl again.

"No, no, I'm fine-" But Cas was already striding towards me, fingers out-stretched. There was only a few seconds between him pressing his fingertips to my forehead and the cuts on my chest healing over, the skin sealing shut with that strange tingly feeling that I could never get used to.

"So, you said that she was screaming?" Sam questioned, focus immediately back to the matter at hand.

"Uh, yeah, she was going crazy after the lightning hit. It must have did something to her, not just physically." I sighed, not able to find the right words to describe what I was thinking. "Look, I have a good feeling that this is the Darkness. I mean, what else could it be?"

"No, no, I think you're right. This is definitely something powerful. _Very_ powerful." He started to go through the bag, setting each item in it on the counter in a line. In the dim light of the lantern, I saw then that one of the girl's extra shirts had a college logo on it, something nearby, probably.

"Well, what do you think?"

"What?" He looked up at me, a strained look on his face.

"What do you think this is?" I emphasized, gesturing to the girl.

"Oh, well, there is a strong possibility that it is the Darkness."

"I there even anything else that it could be?"

"Not that I know of." That was all he said, his tone dark, uncaring, void of hope. That was when I left, not in a rage, not in a huff. I trudged back to my room, feet barely able to carry me forward, and collapsed on my bed. But I did not sleep.

* * *

Hours later, my door opened. It had been hours of silence, of deep cold and quiet crying. I didn't even bother to wipe the tears from my cheeks when Sam stepped in, a candle in hand, leaving his face a deep shadow. It's not like he could have seen them anyway.

I didn't move when he sat at the foot of my bed, placing a hand on my ankle so gently that I could barely feel it through the five pairs of socks I was wearing. He didn't say anything at first, the silence deafening in the blinding darkness. Over those first months, I had come to think of the silence and darkness as the same thing. It was always dark. It was always quiet. They were one in the same, haunting us like the ghosts of those we killed, the ones we left behind, digging deep into our souls during toss-and-turn hours of the forever night after all the candles had burned out and the fires went cold. It clung to our skin, taking away our faces, stealing away our voices. It twisted our senses, turning shadows into monsters and creaks and cracks into screams. It locked us in boxes made of fear and made us want to beg for our nightlights like the little babies we were.

"You okay?" Sam's voice asked, high and hopeful. I could only see the outline of his head, the line of his long nose. I could barely remember what the color his eyes were.

I didn't answer at first, afraid that my voice would not be loud enough to overpower the silence, not sure if I still even had a voice. I watched the candle flicker for a moment, afraid that the flame would one day go out and never come back again.

"Did you find anything on the girl?"

Sam sighed, his head dipping down in defeat. "No. Cas and I have been going through the books again, in case we missed anything about some kind of super-lightning. But there wasn't anything more than what we found before." He paused, sighing lightly. I imagined that he was watching the candle too, seeing the way the dim light cast over his hand that was clenched tightly around the candle holder, as if he might lose it. "It was a lot easier back when we still had internet."

 _Internet_. The word was a shock, so unfamiliar that it took me a moment to remember that life had not always been this way, the memories of before flying by me so fast that it felt like I was falling. More tears slipped down my cheeks when I remembered driving in the Impala with Sam, singing along to music and laughing, all of it feeling like another life, so far away that I couldn't even imagine reaching it. I can't remember the last time I smiled.

"So, we know nothing."

He sighed louder this time. "No." His voice broke.

The silence filled the room again. It was so eager, screaming through the spaces between words, trampling on the ends of our sentences, swallowing up our air, making it hard to breath.

"Are you okay?" He breathed, so quiet that I could barely make it out.

"No, Sam. I'm not," I snapped, sitting up and looking into the darkness where his face should have been. My voice was strained, lips trembling to hold back cries, fists clenching in the cold sheets as I blinked at him, blinked the burning tears away.

"Why?" His head was down again, as if he couldn't bear the thought of me looking at him, maybe unable process the fact that his big brother was there crying in front of him like a little bitch.

"Why?" I demanded, voice rising. "You wanna know why? Because I am so fucking lost and I don't know what to do. Because I want this to be like every other time, when everyone figures out how to fix everything and gives us all the answers. Because I am waiting for a big bad to come and kill everyone that we love before we stab it and then everything will be over. Because I am so fucking scared that I can barely think straight and I feel like there is no end to this and I can't do anything about it." The silence seemed to cower away from my voice, leaving my words echoing around the room long after I had finished, hands shaking in anger, fingers wishing to punch, grab, throw, anything to release all of the energy.

I held my breath as I waited for him to yell at me, accuse me of being a coward, leave the room, slam the door, punch me, _anything_.

"I'm scared too."

The door slammed open and both our heads turned. A rough outline of Castiel stood there, nothing but a shadow against the black background of the hallway.

"You need to see this."

* * *

We were back in the kitchen in seconds, chasing after Cas's coat tails in a panicked flurry, unsure of what would meet us when we got there.

The girl still lay on the counter, still as a statue. I could barely see her, most of the candles blown out hours ago. Cas and I set hurriedly to lighting them again, Sam leaning over the corpse with wide eyes.

"She's bleeding."

"What?" I snapped around in an instant, leaning over beside him, face screwed up in disbelief.

"She's bleeding from her ears. Seems like it's coming from her eyes and nose too."

Cas brought a lantern over, light warming her face and showing the trails of dark liquid from her eyes and nose, pooling under her head and caking in her hair. Sam was pulling another pair of gloves on hastily as Cas wiped some off of her face with two fingers and brought them to his nose, sniffing them.

"This is not blood."

"What?" Sam questioned, voice rising along with his eye brows. He brought a candle closer to her head, crouching down to inspect it closely. "It's black." He stood up again, casting a worried glance to the both of us.

"What, do you mean like ectoplasm? Or Leviathan juice?"

"Neither," Cas stated darkly, still inspecting the substance on his fingers. "It is something different. Something I have never seen before."

I slammed my hands on the counter, desperately wishing that he was wrong, that it was just normal blood, and that we were freaking out over nothing. "What do you mean _you don't know_? You have to know! You're an angel for Christ's sake!"

He gave me an annoyed look, letting his hand fall to his side as he took a step closer to me, looming over me like a skyscraper. I have never felt smaller in my life.

"You are missing the point, _Dean_. The fact that I don't know what it is means that it is something even God did not know about. This means that we are facing something that God did not create, maybe something more powerful than even God Himself."

The silence drew in, a heavy storm cloud that hung in the room like smog. I could feel it, pounding on my ear drums like gunshots, heartbeats, settling on my chest with the weight on the world. I could hear each of my ribs crack.

"Well, what do we do?" Sam's voice was so quiet, yet so loud, grating against the empty air with the force of a thousand punches, reaching to me even through the swirling darkness.

"We research more. Leave the girl and see how this progresses. Find answers."

And that is exactly what we did. It was all that we knew to do. There was no better plans, no plans at all. Just like it has been the whole time. Either find answers or run. Run away from the problem, pretend that it doesn't exist, live in the delusion.

So we went through all of our library, again, hope on our fingertips as they skimmed the pages in the dim light. Words we had read a thousand times, gone over meticulously, analyzed again and again. We kept going in the hope that we would find something that we had missed before, that we would find all the answers in the books that had no answers, because no one had the answers. But we still kept going, kept searching, even though we saw no end in sight.

It was an infinite amount of time later when I had realized that Cas was gone, his books left open on the table on the other side of the room, chair still pulled out. I assumed that he was just in the stacks, looking for more books, but then he was there in front of me, papers fluttering off the table and book pages flapping, saying those words once again:

"You need to see this."

We were left fumbling blindly up the stairs after him, panicked feet pounding against the metal. He was silent the whole time, on his face a look of determination, stern and worried at the same time. He led us up the narrow stair case that exited to the roof, throwing the door open and storming out without a second glance. We followed, unsure of what he wanted, still curious all the same. We strode up to the edge, the end of our universe, looking out over the world created by the Darkness, the world stolen from us, and we saw it.

There, in the sea of complete darkness, a pinprick break in the black ink night, a beacon amongst the heavy walls void of living,

was light.

* * *

 **Hello! I am particularly proud of myself. I haven't updated this early in ages. It feels nice to be productive for once.**

 **So, all I really have to say is a few things about this story that I kind of wanted to address:**

 **1\. is if you see any weird sentences that are in the present tense, they are supposed to be there. I don't know if it really comes across this way, but Dean is supposed to be telling this story from the present. All this is set in the past and he is retelling it, making little comments from the present along the way.**

 **And 2. is that I originally wanted this story to have a tone similar to the song _How_ by the Neighbourhood, especially with the lyrics "They say the end is comin' sooner, but the end's already here." (If you haven't heard that song, then you should totally listen to it because it is really good) I just absolutely love the whole creepy and slightly disturbing mood of** **the song, and every time I hear it, it reminds me of how I dreamed for season 11 to be like, so I kind of based this fanfiction off of it.**

 **But anyways, always remember that reviews are like money. And I need money.**


	4. Where the Sidewalk Ends

_**.**_

 _ **Light shines hope upon our foreheads**_  
 _ **Warm fingers dancing on our skin**_  
 _ **It embraces us in starlight symphonies**_  
 _ **Bright orange orb hanging from a nail**_  
 _ **Against the ocean in the sky**_  
 _ **Cotton waves a constant ripple**_  
 _ **Birds reach wings to the heavens**_  
 _ **We stand on tip-toes**_  
 _ **Stretching our fingers to the clouds**_  
 _ **Wishing we could fly like they do**_  
 _ **Fly so high that we are among the angles**_  
 _ **Sing the songs of stars**_  
 _ **Shake the hand of Father Sun**_  
 **And burn up in his sunrays**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4- Where the Sidewalk Ends**_

I don't remember going to the garage. I don't remember hopping in one of the many untouched cars along with Sam and Cas and buckling up. I don't remember starting up the engine and speeding out of there.

All I know is that I all of a sudden became aware that we were on the road, car screaming across the pavement, hands gripping the steering wheel and all I could see was that light. When I looked back, I saw that Sam and Cas were staring at it too, faces blank and voices silent. Cars were dead carcasses on the sides of the road, empty and soulless, seeming to have been thrown aside by something large that came barreling past. I had to weave around some, swerving to avoid crushed bumpers and open doors and their gutted entrails that littered the pavement. The headlights were halos pressing the Darkness away, brighter than anything I could possibly remember. They were blinding, bright as the stars that were a distant memory, almost as striking as the shaft of pure sunlight burning in the distance.

It hid behind a tall hill, the skeletons of trees threatening to blot it out, bony fingers reaching for it, wishing to take it for themselves. It was golden, the light of angels, emitting from a perfect circle cut out from the sky. I was sure that God himself had hole-punched the Darkness, made a looking glass so he could peek down at us in our time of panic.

The sun had freed us finally.

Sam's fingers gripped the dash white-knuckle tight, leaning forward in his seat and craning his head to see out the window, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, forgotten words glued to his tongue. Cas's cheek was pressed to the window behind me, eyes reflecting the stripe of light against the endless darkness.

I had no idea where I was going, but my foot still pressed to the pedal, hands turning the wheel, always in the direction of the light. I could feel it in my chest, the warm memories of sunlit afternoons and blood red sunsets, the way the sun used to rise each morning in a burst of color. It was a pull in my veins, skin screaming to feel that warmth again, soul begging to see the sky one last time. It pulled me forward, a rope tethered to my being, toward the beacon in the distance, a moth to a flame.

The hum of the engine was the only sound in the world. No radios, no tapes, no CD's. Just darkness. Just a car on the road to nowhere, paved with the bodies of those who had already fallen off.

The light in the distance was the only thing in existence. There was no way to prove that the asphalt under the tires wasn't the only thing besides. The world did not exist outside of my headlight glare. There was a bottomless pit gaping between this road and that lighthouse, and we had to step off the edge of the earth, where the sidewalk ends, and brave the twilight sea where the Darkness made its home.

The only time I tore my eyes away from the light was to swerve around a body laid crumpled on the street, ringed by a puddle black blood, eyes empty and seeping pitch ooze.

* * *

It was a city.

A town.

Tucked among the trees, the road signs reflecting in the headlights like Christmas lights, all red and green and yellow.

Everything was dead.

Cars that cowered on corners, lay sideways across intersections, smashed to bits against walls, wrapped around light poles. Houses that sat abandoned, gutted and ransacked, contents scattered across lawns, porches torn apart, roofs caving in. Corpses, slumped at storefronts, piled on sidewalks, dismembered, blood staining concrete, the smell of rotting bodies and stewing sewage penetrating even our closed windows.

A cat pawing at an overturned trashcan turned tail and ran when our car neared. I parked in an empty alleyway, afraid that the deeper in we drove, the harder it would be to get through by car. So we got out and started walking, collars pulled over noses to keep from gagging, Castiel unaffected and leading us through the pitch black.

The light was so close now, maybe a mile away. I could see the sky, barely a sliver at that angle, the smallest line of blue, blue like skies should be, blue with swirling cotton clouds, blue like the clearest waters, rippling with life, blue like happiness and smiles. The excitement tingled in my fingertips and I couldn't keep from crying.

The sun has freed us finally.

I didn't matter how many pools of still warm blood I stepped in, how many stiff bodies I tripped over, I was going to see the sun again.

We heard it before we saw it.

 _Screaming_.

An earth-quake of noise, first a rumble, then a roar, growing with each step forward. We were running, part curiosity, part need, feet pounding the pavement, but you couldn't hear it over the storm.

The freezing air burned my lungs, heaving breaths stinging my lips. All I could see was the light, cresting over the tops of buildings, the end of an impossible maze of alleyways and cluttered streets, and the _screaming_.

It was so loud now, separate voices, hundreds of animals, fighting to the death, an eternal cage match. It was like the girl in the forest but times a million. It made my skin crawl, heart pumping impossibly fast, fear fizzling in my veins, but I kept moving forward.

The first thing we saw when we turned the last corner was a woman, old and crippled, shuffling forward, one hand raised, one hand clutched to her chest.

"God has come to save us!" She gargled as we passed. "The Rapture is here! He is taking us to heaven! He has risen!"

A crowd stood ahead, a tightly packed mass of bodies at the mouth of the road, furiously trying to press forward into the space before them, so dense that I couldn't see over the sea of bobbing heads to get a peek of what they were looking at. The voices were vibrating my ear drums, rattling my brain. Screeching and shrieking, like caged monkeys set on fire, the sound you imagined the Earth would make if you tore it apart straight down the middle

The light was just in front of us, beaming down from the hole in the sky straight into what seemed to be a court yard, a large space clear of buildings but full of people.

They were every where. Beating others to the ground so they can move a step forward. Climbing on top of buildings to get closer, pushing others off that got in their way. Swinging guns and sticks and fists to those that tried to push ahead of them. Gun barrels were emptied into bodies, screams of anguish sounding as those shot collapsed to the ground, agony ripping from their throats as they were trampled into the pavement.

Complete and utter _chaos_.

A hand was on my arm and suddenly I was high above it all, perched on top of a tall building no one else had accessed. My head snapped back to see Castiel gripping my arm tight, Sam beside him, hand over his mouth as he stared silently down at the scene with a look of complete shock on his face.

The ground was a writhing mass below us, a sea of movement, basked in the light of the sun.

I had almost forgotten what color looked like. Pale faces, smudged with dirt, lips blue from cold, torn clothes of green, blue, pink, purple, orange, yellow shades, stained. Red. Blood on everything, coating heads and splattered on clothing, dripping from walls and pooling on concrete.

Faces were turned up to the light, hands reaching to the sky, voices ringing out, pleas for a savior, pleas for forgiveness, pleas for death. Eyes closed and peaceful, mouths open and screaming to the stars. Everyone was desperate to get to the light, to get to heaven, to get to safety. I could see the hope glowing on their pale faces, shining in the whites of their eyes, cracking in their relieved smiles as they crushed the bones of the bodies beneath them so they could be just an inch closer to the sky.

The light was just a foot away from the edge of the roof. If I just stuck my arm out, I could reach it-

The door behind us banged open, a man bounding onto roof at full speed, barely taking a notice to us before he flung himself over the edge, hands reaching forward as if he could grasp the sunlight between his fingers.

Sam was on his hands and knees, vomiting up the breakfast we never had. I wasn't breathing. My heart had stopped beating. My eyes had stopped seeing. Everything blurred together and all I could see was hell. Cas's hand fell from my arm in favor of his turning around, unable to face what the world had become. Humans were not humans. They were rats, crazed and starving, a single piece of food hung just out of their reach. They were animals, hysterical, raging, hungry animals, humanity cracked upon its fragile seam, fractured and fleshed out for all to see.

All there was was screaming as the world fell apart, a 10.0 earthquake rattling the Earth into a million and I couldn't stand up. A fire was raging the distance and the world was burning and I was falling and no hands were there to catch me. The air was poisoned, tainted with the breaths of the monsters below me. My hands were shaking as they met my cheeks, frigid fingers scraping up the sides of my head and grasping at my hair. I could hear Sam sobbing beside me, asking no one and everyone how this could possibly be real, begging for it to all be a horrible nightmare.

I remember stretching out my fingers and feeling the sun on the very tips of them. I remember Sam kneeling at the edge with his hands held incredulous on the sides of his skull, eyes watering and mouth hanging open, silent, unable to speak another word. I remember Cas standing at my back, still as a statue. I remember my head banging against his knee as I broke and he did nothing, rendered unable to function.

I don't know how long we sat there, but when I looked up I could see the stars.

I don't remember Cas grabbing my arm once again. I don't remember him flashing us back into the car. I don't remember starting up the engine and speeding out of there.

I do remember someone jumping on the hood and busting out the windshield with the butt of a gun. I do remember Sam shooting at him until finally let go, sliding off and tumbling under the wheels, sending us flying up into the air and slamming back down again. I remember seeing the black ooze that leaked from his ears, splattering from his mouth as he screamed at us. I remember the wheels skidding as I pressed the accelerator to the floor, fingers gripping the wheel, knuckles white and stained with drops of black blood.

I remember watching as the light grew farther away in the rearview mirror.

* * *

 **Surprise! A new chapter when you least expected it. I was a little surprised too. I don't think I have ever updated this quickly in my life. But, I had a snow day today, so I decided to write a short little chapter for you all. Short, but incredibly important, mind you. I was going to make it longer, but I wasn't sure if you could handle any more. Sorry to any of you who were hoping for the light to be something good. That should teach you a lesson to never put your trust in me to write something happy. Who do you think I am? Some kind of children's book author? No no no. I do not write happy endings.**

 **And thanks to _deadone1013_ and _ALetteredWoman_ for being like the only ones who read this story**

 **REMEMBER: Reviews are like cookies. Everyone wants a cookie (or several).**


	5. Ashes Ashes, We All Fall Down

_**.**_

 _ **Dean Winchester sat on a wall**_

 _ **Dean Winchester had a great fall**_

 _ **All of God's angels**_

 _ **And all of God's men**_

 _ **Couldn't put Dean back together again**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 5- Ashes Ashes, We All Fall Down**_

The light was gone within an hour.

It was like it just wanted to say hello and tear the world apart. Stay for a cup of tea while the bodies piled up and wave a happy goodbye when the screams finally died out.

It was like an eye, Sam said, Darkness closing in until it was no more. Nothing more than the stars that stained our memories or the hope that things might finally get better.

The car was more silent than ever. Less like an absence of sound and more like an absence of everything, as if we had been sucked into the vacuum of space and all our thoughts and words had died along with us. I was barely aware of my hands on the wheel, or my constant checking of the rearview mirror, or the way the freezing air rushed into car through the shattered window. I wasn't aware that I was still breathing or that my heart was still pumping or that I still was pressing my foot to the pedal because all I could see were the faces. The faces of all those people- _monsters-_ so far from being human but so close to being something we would have hunted back when that was all that mattered. So close that I almost couldn't tell the difference. So close that I was afraid that I could be one of them.

I could still feel the sunlight on my fingertips. It felt like tired morning kisses on my skin, warm like my mother's hands when they would caress my face as she sang me to sleep. It felt like holding your hand just above a flame, burning, but in an adrenaline-pumping way, knowing that you are moments away from pain but you have all the control. It felt like the first time you ever realize that you love someone, all flush and tingly and completely indescribable. It made me sick.

It was like a tattoo of someone's name whom you loved, who you shared your favorite memories with, who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, but they died before you could even say goodbye. All I wanted was to go back, rewind time so I could fight my way to the middle of that crowd and feel the sun once again. It was an ache in my chest, the need to see it one more time, the knowledge that I would crush anyone in my way to get there a weight in my stomach. I couldn't push down the feeling, I couldn't get rid of it. It was all-consuming and completely terrifying.

I hadn't realized that Sam had leaned over the back seat but I almost crashed when I heard a scream. There was a moment when the car was skidding sideways and all there was was bobbing lights and high-pitched screeching and Sam's panicked consoling and my confused and distressed questions as I scrambled to gain purchase on the asphalt.

We came to a stop as the back end slammed into another car, sending my head cracking against the window and Sam sprawling into my side. The screaming continued, my head pounding like a drum and all I could see was the shine of the headlights on the car in front of us as my vision blurred in and out.

"Hey, hey, calm down. It's okay," Sam whispered, voice shaking on the edge of calm. I turned to see his head dipped over the back of the seat, hands raised, palm-out at the sides of his face as if in surrender. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

"What the hell is it?" I slurred, fingers poking at the knot on my head and the probable concussion that was like a drill to my skull.

"Shhhh!" Sam threw a halting hand at my face without even a glance, focus still turned to the back seat. I could hear quiet whimpers and stifled sniffles as Sam continued to whisper words of comfort. When I tried to get up to see what it was, Sam's hand was on my shoulder, pushing me back down.

"Hey, calm down. Everything is going to be okay. You are safe now, you hear me?" There was a small mumble in response. "Come here. Is it okay if I bring you up here?" Another mumble.

Sam reached behind the back seat slowly, repeating the mantra of "It's okay" the whole time, and I swear the whole world was holding its breath as he came back up, time seeming to slow down as he turned around.

He was holding a girl, tiny and trembling, like a chihuahua, curled so tightly into herself that I could barely see her face but she appeared to be barely six years old. Sam placed her onto the seat beside him, but she took one look at me and scrambled into his lap, cries growing louder again as her shining eyes looked up at me in fear, too thin arms wrapping around her too thin legs as she hid behind Sam's arm. It took another eternity of hastily calming her down before she stopped crying altogether and just shivered silently on Sam's lap, staring down at the seat.

"Hey." He hesitantly placed his hand on her back. "I'm Sam," he pointed to me, "that's Dean, my big brother," then to Cas, "and that's our friend Cas. We are all nice and we will not hurt you. You are safe with us."

She turned her wide eyes to him, pausing a moment before nodding minutely.

"Good. What's your name?" I could see the gentle smile on his face, hear the tender tone in his voice, so different than the broken sobs that filled his mouth just hours earlier, the intense silence that followed. I almost wanted to fall into his false calm and pretend that the last hours never happened, I wanted to believe his words, believe that everything was alright, but there were no amount of lies and denial that could take away the fact that I had watched the world fall to pieces with my own eyes, felt it crumple with every bit of my being, let my last bits of hope slip through my fingers and fall into the endless pit of death that had roared beneath me.

She was so quiet, I couldn't hear her answer. Sam had to lean his head down to hear her, her mouth pressed to his ear like they were sharing secrets.

"Haleigh? That's a beautiful name." He grinned down at her, something of a magic act, impossible in this world that we were trapped in, as if we were not stuck on a road in the middle of nowhere, as if the sun had not just stopped rising months ago, as if the sky had not been swallowed up, as if the world wasn't dying, as if we were not slowly dying along with it.

"Where are you from?" He brushed a hand over her ratty hair, smoothing it down.

"Nebraska," she squeaked.

"Nebraska? How did you get all the way over here?"

"T-the men. The men, they took me," she stuttered, scared stiff as she shook her head furiously, arms wrapping around herself even more tightly.

The smile fell from Sam's face and he looked up at me for what felt like the first time in a thousand years. "Dean, turn the heater on."

I didn't question him, seeing as the girl was shivering her way out of her skin, going back on the vow that we would not use the heaters in an attempt to save gas as I flipped them on, the car instantly flooded with stuffy, charred-smelling air. It was like a luxury, simple warmth, something that I had never thought of as much of problem just months before, the ability to just flip a switch and not be cold anymore. It wouldn't make much of a difference when we started driving again, though.

Sam shrugged off his outermost coat and draped it around her, hurriedly angling all the vents on her, Cas leaning forward and speaking for the first time since we left.

"She has a fever. Do you want me to heal her?"

"No," Sam snapped, brushing off his extended hand. "No, not now. Wait until she's asleep or something."

I just sat, watching, mouth dry and hands clenched in my jeans. I still hadn't completely taken hold of the situation, mind swimming and head spinning. All I could focus on was the way Sam cradled the girl, Haleigh, in his arms so gently, his words so caring and eyes so serene. It wasn't him. It was so unlike the Sam I knew, that I had come to know since the Darkness had taken over. There in the seat next to me was before Sam, pre-apocalypse, pre-Darkness, pre-everything. That was the Sam that stayed up reading Harry Potter and curled up on the couch to do homework on weekends. That was the Sam who once saved a kitten from behind a motel and let it sleep in his coat pocket until Dad made him get rid of it. That was the Sam that helped me with my homework and defended bullied kids at school. That was the Sam who never once complained and only offered smiles when you could see he was breaking inside. That was the Sam that was only held together by rusty paper clips but would never hesitate to offer them to others who needed them. That was the Sam that I hadn't seen in years, that had been slowly worn down piece by piece until he was left with nothing, nothing to live for. That was the Sam I missed every time I looked into his eyes and saw someone who did not want to be here, who would give anything to finally be free from this life he was forced to live in.

My hands found their way back to the wheel, my foot pressing to the pedal, and we were moving again. The road signs meant nothing more than land marks, the exits they pointed out leading to cities and towns empty and starved of life, void of the hustle and bustle of days long past, their sidewalks walked by shadows, streets home to skeletons of abandoned cars and rotting trash, houses inhabited by silhouettes in widows that ducked and hid when you looked at them. Every town is a ghost town when the people who live there haunt the place like the dead.

My eyes stayed on the road but every so often I looked over to see Haleigh's head tucked in Sam's coat, find him grasping her bare feet in his large hands to keep her from getting frostbite, see her eyes close in sleep only to snap open a moment later, startled. I held my breath the whole way home, dread a slithering snake in my stomach, knowing that we were getting ourselves into some deep trouble, trying not to dwell on thoughts of the future because that was a dark path that had no clear end.

The road home was paved with silence.

* * *

The Bunker was as cold as ever, the fires burnt out long ago, embers barely glowing in the ashes. Cas went about to lighting each one again, running past me with a stack of chopped wood piled in his arms. Sam strode in with Haleigh in his arms, head drooping on his shoulder, barely a form inside the bundle of fabric. He immediately plopped down in front of the fire Cas had just lit, wrapping the girl more tightly in his coat. I was left standing dumbstruck at the bottom of the staircase, feet glued to the ground and mouth hanging open until I remembered that there was dead body in the next room over. Cas helped me move it into one of the back rooms so the girl wouldn't see it, mopping up the black blood that had formed a pool around the counter. It took me half an hour to scrub all the traces of it off my skin, rubbing my hands raw long after it had all washed away. I left the bathroom with knuckles stained with my own blood, skin still crawling and stomach still churning.

Cas cured the girl of her fever while she lay curled peacefully in Sam's lap, holding onto Sam's arm like it was some kind of teddy bear she couldn't sleep without. I kept moving, going from cleaning the kitchen to reorganizing my room to chopping wood without a single break to think. I didn't want to think. Work gave me an excuse to pretend like nothing happened, push the images out of my head and erase the screams from my memories. No one said a thing. Sam was too preoccupied with the girl to make a comment, and Cas avoided any form of eye contact each time we crossed paths.

The girl ended up sleeping for hours. Cas must have done something to aid her of nightmares, because she barely even stirred. I found every possible distraction I could. I cleaned all of our clothes, which was highly needed, considering the fact that I had been wearing the same three shirts for the past few months without washing them once. I swept all the floors-God, I missed vacuums-and mopped them too, though it didn't really matter anymore. I cleaned all the dirty dishes that had been piling up for days (washing things isn't easy when your only source of water is the stream behind the Bunker), and even put all the books we had left out back on the shelves according to Sam's weird Da Vinci code thing. All while Cas moped all alone in the library and Sam snoozed by the fire place. (He had dozed off in the middle of my crazed sweeping binge.)

And just when I felt like I was going to collapse myself, the girl sat up and looked around, freezing in place when her eyes fell on me, jumping up and running for the door screaming for her Mommy. Sam wasn't even fully awake before he stumbled to his feet and chased after her, which isn't the best idea when trying to comfort a scared girl, stopping her in her tracks and dropping in front of her. She fell into his arms in a heartbeat, a shaking and sobbing mess, Sam picking her up and wiping her tears away. I couldn't hear what he was whispering to her, but at one point she looked over his shoulder at me and nodded, turning back to him once more.

Sam gathered up some blankets and made her a bed near the fire and laid her there, telling her to stay there while he went to talk to us. We stood in the war room, gathered around the table, none taking the move to sit. For a moment, no one said a thing, eyes catching on chairs and books and candles, looking anywhere but up. I couldn't get my mouth to move, lips glued shut by the panic that had been a hive of buzzing hornets in my chest, afraid that if I even spoke a word, it would all just escape and I wouldn't be able to stop myself.

"She said that you look like one of the men, Dean."

Sam was looking straight at me, hands gripping the back of the chair in front of him, eyes expectant, cheeks hollow, hair a mess, shoulders slumped.

"The men that took her. Took her from her home when the lights went out and locked her up and did things to her that she won't even talk about."

My fingers gripped the edge of the table tighter. I swallowed hard. "She...she said that?"

"Yes." His voice cracked.

My eyes were too heavy to hold up, falling back to the table bathed in orange candle light and stained with rings in the shape of glass bottoms.

He leaned forward, hands pressed flat against the table top, voice low as he stabbed me with his eyes and I still couldn't bear to look up.

"Now, Dean, before you say anything about 'this is not our responsibility', or 'we already have too much on our plate', just think about that girl in there. She hasn't seen her family in months. She doesn't even know if they are alive or not. She was just taken one night from her own home, in the middle of all this panic, and locked up for who knows how long, and had unspeakable things done to her that will probably scar her for the rest of her life. She is lost, Dean. She is lost and alone and we are the only ones-"

"Sam..."

"This is the apocalypse, Dean! We can't just shove all of our problems on other people. There is no one else! Everyone we know is dead. Everyone else is gone, man. You know that! We are so far gone from what the world used to be. There are no nice little white-picket families that we can hand her off to. We can't trust anybody! Everyone is just living for themselves. That's what people do. It's survival of the fittest out there, and no one wants to take on the burden of another mouth to feed, another life to defend."

"Then why do we have to do it?" I questioned, knuckles going white as I tried to keep my voice from shaking. It was all too much. It was all too much for me.

"Because that's what we do, Dean!" His hand slamming down on the table is what finally forced me to look up. The force seemed to shake the whole room, the intensity of his stare, the accusation in his voice, the pure rage barely hiding the complete and utter panic in his eyes that only I know how to see. It all plunged us into a bitter, detached silence as the moment froze in time, a staring match growing between the two of us, Castiel off to the side, watching everything go down.

"That's what we do," Sam repeated quietly, his voice growing with the next line. "It's our job to save people, take on the jobs no one else would. We have done this all our life. It's not that different."

"Sam..." I whispered once again, worlds alluding my jumbled thoughts as I tried to form a proper counter-argument.

"Dean, there's no convincing. We have to do this." He looked over his shoulder to the doorway, gazing at the girl's silhouette framed by the fire where she sat alone, probably listening to our every word. "There's no other choice. So you better suck it up and accept it, because we can't do anything about it." He snapped before he pushed himself off of the table with a huff and strode off.

I was stuck in that spot for what felt like hours, staring blankly off at the door which he left through, feeling more helpless and alone than ever.

I turned to meet Cas's eyes, pleading silently for him to give me some kind of support, reassurence, to say that he was on my side, anything, but he just gave me a small nod before following Sam out without a second glance.

It was all too much.

It was all too much.

* * *

I waited until I knew Sam was asleep at the fireplace with Haleigh curled up at his side, even sitting and listening to see if he was snoring. With a beer and lantern in hand, I slipped out silently, feet following the rocky path up the hill and past the Bunker. It was so quiet that I could hear my heart beating in my chest, each piece of gravel scrape against the bottoms of my boots. The lantern casted a warm glow over the worn path, only making the shadows deeper and the pebbles sharper. The difference between my world and the endless Darkness was a dim circle of light that bobbed and moved with each step. My breath clogged the air, thick and wispy like cigarette smoke. The hill seemed to grow steeper with each step, the trek taking longer than I remembered. I felt like I was climbing a mountain, out of breath and hanging on to the thought of getting to the top, crossing the finish line, reaching the end, getting to stop, finally.

I picked a spot and settled onto the dry dirt, where grass used to grow, where bright yellow buttercups would bloom in the spring, where glistening snow would cover in the winter, where I always said I would come and sit for a picnic or something, because it just seemed so perfect. The lantern was my only companion, no plaid blankets or baskets full of fruits and flowers to accompany me. My beer was cold, cold as the ground I sat on, cold as air that pressed on my cheeks, seeped through every layer of my clothing and caressed my skin, making me shiver.

I could see the oranges and golds of flames in the windows of the Bunker, seeming almost like sparkling stars in the distance, twinkling and just a breath away, but so far out of reach at the same time. My elbows rested on my knees as I took a sip of the beer, probably the last beer, watching the lights flicker and dance to a tune I could not hear. Being up there, it felt like I was floating, the world gone completely, stomach dropping like I was falling endlessly into the void below. That was all the world was now, a never-ending pit of nothing. Take one step off the edge and you would fall forever, plummeting down to the end that didn't exist.

There was the unmistakable sound of wings flapping and I could see the tips of Cas's shoes peeking out from behind me. My fingers dragged through the rough dirt as my eyes stayed glued to the lamp, to the small trapped flame that was the only thing keeping the Darkness from swallowing me whole.

"What? Are you just gonna stand and stare? Take a seat, come watch the show with me."

He lowered himself down beside me without a word, crossing his legs and looking out over the great expanse of nothing spanning in front of us. I offered him the bottle, and he took it after a moment's hesitation, tipping it back and sipping it before handing it back to me. His eyes were stuck on the wavering lights in the windows, just as mine had been a moment before. I wonder if he was thinking of stars then too.

He didn't speak for a long time, the two of us just sitting on the crest of the hill alone in the middle of everywhere, a lonely island hovering in the endless void of space, the scary part, on the very edge of a black hole, where everything was sucked in, even light, and everything stopped existing, and there was nothing left to hold on to stop you from getting sucked in too. It was quiet, so quiet that if I held my breath I could hear the Darkness faintly in the distance. That sound that had grown to be part of the silence as well, because it was always there and you eventually just tuned it out. The sound of utter emptiness, how you would imagine space would sound like, even though there is no air for sound to travel through. Almost like the sound of pouring rain outside your window in the middle of spring, low and rumbling and pounding the earth, making your bones rattle, your chest heavy, making it hard to breath.

"Are you okay?"

His voice was quiet, so loud, though, against the silence. His head cocked to the side as he looked at me, chin resting on his shoulder.

I sighed and took another sip of my drink to prolong the pause. The bottle clinked against rocks under me when I set it down, holding my breath as I fiddled with the label, head hanging low so I wouldn't have to see Cas staring at me with those eyes, always so in awe of me like I was some kind of idol, like I was the 'righteous man'. Saving the world doesn't make you a good person if you end up plunging it into the end again.

I sighed again. It had become such a normal thing to do. "No."

"Is it because of the girl? Do you not want to take her in?" It doesn't matter how much of an angel he is, he has always been one of the most understanding and caring people I have ever met.

"Well, kind of." I passed the bottle back to him and waited for him to take a drink. "Listen, I don't mean to be all against her being here. I definitely don't want her out there with freaks like we saw in that city running around. It's just... with everything that has happened in the past few hours, this just tips the scale. I can't deal with it all at once. I haven't had a single moment to process it all. We just went from one thing to the next without a breath in-between. I feel like my head is about explode with all the shit that we just went through."

"It is okay, Dean. Most humans do not have the mental strength to go through all that. Even _I_ am having trouble processing everything that I have witnessed." He shook his head wearily and looked back to the bunker, eyes glowing in the dim light of the lamp. "Even you, Dean, cannot handle the weight of the world. Eventually, there will be one event that will be the stick that breaks the camel's back." He turned back to me, eyebrows scrunched together, a small smile on his face. "That is how the saying goes, isn't it?"

Something warm grew in my chest and I laughed, just a bit, but it was a laugh all the same. "Yeah, close enough." I can't remember the last time I really laughed.

He passed the beer back to me. "I think that we all need to just take a break. No more researching, no more stress. It is too hard on us."

"Yeah, I can agree with you there. I need a vacation."

"I do not think that is possible, Dean."

I laughed again, taking another sip of beer before looking back at him. "Nah, I was thinking that we just ditch the apocalypse and go have some fun. Where do you want to go? I think the beach sounds nice."

He realized the sarcasm, grinning and pulling his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. "I have heard of amusement parks and things called roller-coasters that humans ride just to get sick."

"Well, that's not their intended purpose, but I hear that they are pretty fun. I have been to amusement parks before, but I never ridden any of the rides." The beer bottle wasn't growing warmer to my touch like usual, instead staying ice cold no matter how long I held it, chilling my fingers even more than the frigid air was. I set the bottle down between us and tucked my hands into my pockets, wishing that I had thought to bring some gloves. "Would you want to go to an amusement park?"

"Yes, actually. I have always wondered what was so amusing about paying to put your life in danger."

I nodded, a grin growing on my cold cheeks. "Well, when this is all over, I say we take a trip to the nearest amusement park and get on every single ride. Sound nice?"

His eyes widened in something between wonder and surprise. "When the apocalypse is over?"

I nodded again.

He smiled so wide that I could see his teeth. "Yes, Dean, I think that is a great idea. I would love that."

"Great. It's a plan. Step one, bag the Darkness, step two, have the greatest vacation ever."

"Ride the biggest roller-coaster on Earth," he added.

"Yeah, and after, we should go to the beach, learn to surf and stuff."

"The beach sounds nice."

"Yeah, the beach sounds great."

* * *

 **What? Were you all so stunned into silence at my last chapter that you couldn't even bring yourself to review? Was it really that shocking? Am I really that good at writing? _[this is sarcasm]_**

 **Oh whatever. Just remember to review on this chapter or I might think that no one is even reading this.**

 **Anyways, sorry that I took over a month to update. I warned you about this, so you shouldn't be surprised. I have been busy with school and stuff, you know, the usual. I also have been watching the Walking Dead for the past five days straight. That kind of takes up a lot of my time, you know.**

 **AND SUPERNATURAL HAS BEEN RENEWED FOR ANOTHER SEASON.**

 **Do not mistake my intense capitalization for excitement. I am not excited at all. I know that I really want Supernatural to never end, but it is almost worse having to sit a watch it get to be as awful as it is. It's like a disgrace to the original seasons, and to Eric Kripke, who probably is looking at Supernatural now and facepalming repeatedly for letting this happen.**

 **P.S.: I really actually love Supernatural with all of my heart, but as an amateur writer and movie/television buff myself, it makes me so angry to see something that I love be continued on and on when it should have ended with season 5, and see the current seasons be so poorly written and filmed when the original show was a masterpiece in every sense of the word.**

 **And REMEMBER: Reviews are like reviews. Give them to me now.**


	6. I Was Taught to Fear the Dark

_**Mr. Moon and Mrs. Sun dance across the sky**_  
 _ **Midday waltzing, a constant tango**_  
 _ **Red sea rising, stars fading into centerfolds**_  
 _ **Orange bulb dimming, diamond heart shining**_  
 _ **Day and night conversing**_  
 _ **Speaking words into the clouds**_  
 _ **Rays crawling ever closer**_  
 _ **Two lovers just out of reach**_  
 _ **Cresting crystal mountaintops**_  
 _ **Breathing in the sea**_  
 _ **Set on each horizon**_  
 _ **Two eyes watching over me.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 6- I Was Taught to Fear the Dark**_

My mother used to sing me to sleep when I got scared at night.

Not a lullaby. No. It was always that Beatles song, _Hey Jude_. I remember the way she would whisper it as she tucked me back into bed after I would come bounding into their room crying about the monster in the closet, the shadows that whispered my name every time I closed my eyes. I never understood the words, but her voice always comforted me, the way she was so gentle and caring, the way she smiled, the way she would assure me each time that there was no monster, no danger. She always told me that the angels were watching over me, that they would protect me from all the big bad monsters in my closet and the shadows that lurked in the corners. And I always believed her.

When I stepped in the bunker, it took me a while to realize, but I could hear the same tune, the same one my mother always sang to me, and I stopped.

It was Sam. Sam was in the library with the girl cradled on his shoulder, humming the song hurriedly to himself as he bounced her in his arms, and all I could do was wonder how the hell he even knew that song because Dad sure as hell never let us listen to the Beatles after Mom died. I didn't move, didn't notice Cas walking past me, didn't realize that I had let go of the door until it came slamming shut behind me and we all jumped out of our skin.

The girl's face was pale in the firelight as her head popped up from its place in the crook of Sam's neck. Her look of fear and confusion was marred by the tears that glistened on her cheeks and her sniffles that made her whole body shake. I hadn't realized that the song had stopped, that the room was plagued in a stale silence as we all looked back and forth between each other, waiting for the others to say something, something at all. It wasn't until the crushing weight of everything settled back on my shoulders did I remember that everything was still here, same as it was when I left, that it wasn't all a bad dream that I could black out, erase from memory. Leaving only evaded the responsibility, the pressure, the overwhelming feeling that I was drowning every second that I stood in this empty shell of a building. My little siesta was over, I left it at the door when I walked in. But it didn't matter how long I ran from my problems, they were always nipping at my heels, looming over my shoulder, heavy and smothering, not unlike the Darkness that clogged the sky and stole the sun away.

"Where were you?" Sam snapped, eyes focused on me, his tone accusing but kept to a whisper as he stroked the girl's hair in an attempt to calm her down. I didn't miss the panic that hid behind his words, that was almost a constant presence in every conversation.

"We were sitting on the hill outside," Cas answered for me. I didn't even hear the question.

"What? Why the hell were you out there? I needed you in here." His words were screaming, but his voice was only a harsh breeze to the still air. The thoughts echoing against my skull threatened to overpower it, but somehow his message rang clear.

"Why? What happened?" It was like a switch flipped inside me. I was in panic mode, leeching off of Sam's trepidation bubbling under the surface. _I needed you_. The words bumped around in my head along with all of my previous worries, and soon, they were all I could hear, over and over and over and over. He was in trouble and I wasn't there to help him. I was off talking of vacations and rollercoasters and the fucking beach while he was here, alone, wondering where I was and why I had left him.

He looked to the girl for a moment before lowering his voice even more. "She had another nightmare. It must have been a bad one, because it took me half an hour to calm her down. She wouldn't even let me touch her at first. She hid under the table and I couldn't get her to come out."

I didn't know what to say.

"I was going to prepare a bath for her, maybe get her some food soon. She must be hungry."

It took me a moment to realize what he was saying, but I quickly nodded my head and ran off to the kitchen, waving for Cas to follow.

Taking a bath was a big ordeal these days.

Well, at least for us, we were lucky enough to have a fresh stream running just a few meters from our front doorstep. The water had stopped running from the taps long ago. We had figured that there was a water pump somewhere in the bunker that probably had some extra water sitting in it, but it must have been buried somewhere among the endless sprawling hallways and hidden rooms, because we couldn't find it. So we started using water from the stream. But using it for anything more than a quick drink meant that we had to lug out the huge chili pots that we found in the kitchen and fill them up to the brim, and then make the long walk back to the bunker, which was a two man job, unless Cas came along to help. After that, we had to heat the ice cold water over the fire (oh yeah, the gas just happened to stop working too) until it was actually at a tolerable temperature to bathe in. Then came the precarious task of trying to get the pot from the fire to the bathroom without singeing your fucking fingers off (I lost count of how many times I had burnt myself doing that until I finally thought to let it cool down some first). All of the work put into it made me miss being able to take a nice, quick shower.

It took quite a while, but we got the bath ready. The whole time, I was so determined to contribute, to make up for the pit of guilt that had settled in my stomach. In reality, it was a small offence, simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it all just got blown out of proportion for me somehow. I couldn't stand the thought of Sam being woken up to the girl's screams, of him crouching by the table and trying desperately to coax her out, grimacing every time she flinched away from his helping hand. All while I wasn't there to help him.

I sat in the library as Sam tried to get Haleigh into the bath. I could hear them, just down the hall. I held my breath and stared at the flickering shadows in the hallway as she cried. Cried about her Mommy, cried about her old house, cried as she told Sam to get out get out get out.

Sam ended up having to leave her alone. She refused to get in the bath while he was in the room. Even after he tried to convince her that there was a fine line between helping and hurting, she still did not trust him. The men, she said, the men hurt her. They took her clothes when she begged for them not to, they did things Mommy said no one should ever do to little girls like her.

Sam settled on making sure that she knew where everything was and left the door open a crack so she could call to him when she was done or if she needed help. He emerged from the bathroom with misery dripping from his features, and I could see his face fall when he saw me sitting there even through the dark shadows. Our eyes connected and I could tell that he knew, he knew that I had heard every word, and that they made me just as sick as they did him.

He slid down into the chair beside mine with a loud shaking sigh, burying his head in his hands. I had my fingers clasped together and pressed tightly against my lips, as if I was afraid of what might come tumbling out of my mouth if I removed them.

We sat like that for what seemed like hours, not moving, not saying a word, just listening to the water splash in the bathroom three doors over. The only time I looked up from the table was when Castiel walked in, having been who knows where for the past few minutes and was graced with the fact that he did not hear that little girl's cries, didn't have to hear her utter the worst words you could possibly imagine.

"Where is the girl? Is she alright?"

Neither Sam nor I made a move to answer. I stared off into the shadows that crept along the bookshelves, trying to ignore the figures I saw lurking there, fingers curling around corners, faces peeking between volumes, eyes blinking from the niches where the light did not reach. I watched my breath swirl and cloud the air, counted the scars that lined my fingers, prayed and prayed for the screams in my head go away.

"Maybe... maybe you can erase her memories."

My eyes shot up to meet the broken look of hope on Sam's face as he turned to Cas. I held my breath as I turned to him as well, trying to not look as desperate as my brother.

"Are you speaking of the ones of her-"

"-Yes. Yes, Cas. We do not need to talk about them. I just want to know if you can erase them," Sam said.

He paused for a moment, head tilting to the side in that annoying way that really didn't even annoy me all that much anymore because bigger things mattered then than being ticked off by the strange mannerisms of a rebellious angel. "Well, yes, I can. But it would not make much of a difference. Memories are merely just the mind's visual playback of an event. The emotions related to that are completely separate, and are part of the soul, not the mind. I cannot erase part of a soul."

All of the air left my lungs. I couldn't stop my shoulders from slumping, my head from dipping into my hands like a weeping willow, wilted and sorrowed, wishing with all of my heart that I could take the burdens from that little girl myself, with my own bare hands. No one deserved that, no one, especially not a lost and lonely girl who was barely six years old and missed her family, who didn't know if her parents were still alive or not, who had nothing left but the nightmares of memories carved into her soul and the scars and bruises scraped into her skin.

I can't help but understand her pain.

"I am going to kill them."

"What?"

I lifted my head up, mouth a tight line and eyes set straight, voice nothing more than an animal-like growl. "I am going to kill them."

"Who?" Sam asked.

"I am going to kill each and every one of those sons of bitches that laid even a finger on her!"

The room went silent. My chair was five feet behind me, my fist bared on the table top. The room was still shaking. Sam and Cas only stared, eyes wide, mouths open. The candle's flames were shivering, as if terrified of my voice and the way it tore holes through the fragile silence and left it a shredded rag that let the whispers through, the ones that hide right in the corners of your mind, the ones you swear are just the wind, even though wind no longer exists in this world; the ones that plague your sleep and dig into the deepest crevasses of your mind, making a home there and living off your thoughts like parasites. The ones that I hope are just temporary but book their stay for another night with each experience that rips away at the seams that hold together my sanity.

A small sniffle came from the hallway and I snapped around to see Haleigh there, towel wrapped around her thin shoulders, pooling on the ground beneath her, hair still soaked and dripping a puddle at her feet. Her chin was tucked to her chest, wide eyes glancing shyly up at us.

"I'm done."

Sam was up in a second, scooping her up into his arms and running her over to the fire place, scolding her all along the way for walking all the way out here while her hair was still wet, going on about how she could get pneumonia, how it was not so easy to treat illnesses anymore, and so on. I was still stuck in the same place as he got up to get another towel, and she turned around with a stern look on her face and stopped him in his tracks.

"No. My Mommy would always dry my hair after I took a bath and braid it in pretty pigtails."

Sam looked at me in half disbelief/half desperation, lifting his hands up in question, eyebrows creasing in confusion.

I just shrugged in equal ignorance, giving him a sympathetic look. "Well, you're the one with the hair, you should know how to braid." The smile on my face was stiff like plastic, forced and molded by my own hands, attempting to pretend that everything was fine, everything was perfect, and that we still lived in a world that it was possible to truly smile in.

* * *

I was sitting on the table top, fingers wrapped around an empty beer bottle that I had found on the floor. I was going to throw it away, but I couldn't help but feel the familiarity of its weight in my palms, the cool glass on my fingertips. We had just run out and I was already getting all sentimental. The trip to the trashcan was stopped midway, interrupted by the quiet giggling that shocked my ears and made my head buzz in confusion.

My feet had made their own way to the library, stopping in the doorway to gaze upon the scene by the fire, three shadows gathered there, huddled close like cold penguins, all laughing and chattering merrily.

Cas and Sam were braiding Haleigh's hair, Cas some kind of hair-styling prodigy, easily twisting one side of her hair together and already tying it at the end, all while he tried to explain to Sam how to do it on the other side. Sam was failing miserably, but joking along the way, going on about how he should learn how to braid his own hair so he could get it out of his face for once.

And I sat and watched them from my home in the shadows, silent like the Darkness, hidden and observing the happy sight before me, the icy spear in my chest only growing colder as my fingers gripped the empty bottle tighter, and I couldn't bear to look any longer.

"My best friend's name was Emma." I could hear the smile in Haleigh's voice, the warmest I had heard it since we had found her. "We always swinged on the swings together at recess. She would share her gummies with me sometimes, and I would give her one of my cookies my Mommy packed me. We were gonna have a sleepover at my house on the weekend. We were planning it at school the day before the lights went out. We were gonna have ordered pizza and play dress up and watch a movie. It was gonna be really fun."

I squeezed my eyes shut. That was what always got me. The memories of before. They stabbed my brain like the tip of a dagger, bled out and bloomed like an open wound. I could never stop them from coming, seeping between my clutched fingers, dripping from my palms, overflowing like flood water. Flashes of Sam laughing, of music blaring from the Impala's speakers, wind rushing past my face through the open window. Bars and diners, sleazy motels, Sam's snoring, the open road, the smell of rain, the constellations that had names that I never learned. My hands, palms up, shaking and covered in blood, that unending rage that ripped through me, bubbled under my skin, Cas below me, face battered and blood-stained, angel blade stabbing the wood just inches from his face-

That's where the memories always went. They started with warm smiles and the echoes of laughter long forgotten, then were quickly torn apart by the horrors that I thought had been washed away years ago by liquor and forced forgetfulness.

The problem was that there were too many. The bad always outweighed the good. There was no amount of forgetting that could erase every bad memory, every horrifying experience, because that was my life. From the moment that demon burnt my Mom up on that ceiling, that has been my life. There's no getting away from that. There was no forgetting.

Things only get more soul-wrenching, more scarring. They all pile up and up and there is no ceiling to stop them. No small recollection of a tiny victory or a good joke here and there can ever wipe them out. My life is like a giant pie chart where the dark and twisted memories leave a stain so large that only the tiniest sliver of light is left. And each day here, it only gets smaller.

The weight sat heavy in my stomach, fingers twitching to reach for those dwindling flashes of happiness and hold them tight, grasp them to my chest and never let them go. The laughing continued from the fire place. I wished I could have joined in, made new memories to fit into the empty spaces left behind by the others before the Darkness filled them in. But I couldn't make myself move forward, couldn't will myself to hold my weight on my own two feet, to take the few steps toward them.

So I just watched.

And I couldn't help but let the memories back in again, relating this to all the other apocalypses we had started, remembering how normal things still were, even when the world was ending. Back then, you could live in the blissful ignorance that the storms were just strange weather phenomena, that the news stories of all the crazy deaths were just freak coincidences, accept that everything was just fine, as long as it wasn't happening to you. But now everyone was effected. There was no blowing this off. Before, even Sam and I could sometimes forget about the all the shit storms going on with a little hunt or a quick day off. It was all so... normal.

But now, there is no more normal.

* * *

The silence was heavy as always.

We sat around the table, picking at the cold deer meat that I cooked earlier. There was barely enough for both me and Sam, but adding Haleigh in made it even harder to ration the skinny doe that was already sickly and dying before I took it out of its misery.

But I was glad to see her eating, at least, considering she was almost skin and bone and how her stomach had been growling from the moment I mentioned 'dinner'. I mean, it took me long enough to convince her that it was just chicken and that she wasn't about to eat little Bambi.

I couldn't ignore the way she looked at me, head tilted down and eyes hidden by her long lashes, shyly hunched in her seat right across from mine. Every time I glanced up, she hurriedly looked away, playing with the food in her hands as she nibbled at it tentatively. At least she wasn't scared.

I looked down at my plate, one of the fancy ones we found in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets, already empty except for the pile of bones picked clean. My stomach rumbled at the thought of cheeseburgers and steaks and French fries and donuts. I missed being able to go out to diners and order food until I was ready to burst, and then order more. I missed fresh food that tasted good and didn't have to be shot down first. I missed hot waitresses that brought the already made food right to me. I missed not being hungry.

"When are the lights going to come back on?"

I looked up. I almost didn't hear her quiet question over my fantasies of food.

But then her words finally registered.

I swallowed hard and looked to Sam for answers.

His eyes widened, hands frantically combing through his hair as he tried to find the right words. "W-well...um. We...we don't kn-"

"Soon."

Haleigh's gaze switched to me and a smile grew on her face, the first one directed at me. "Really?"

"Yes, very soon. I will make sure of it."

I could feel Sam's eyes burning holes through my skull as I was screaming at myself in my own mind to not answer the question I knew was coming next.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

 **Okayyyyy. I'm back! Sorry once again for the late update. You know the drill. I was busy blah blah blah school blah blah blah life, whatever. This chapter is kind of short, kind of pointless. It's mainly just more of Dean talking to himself and stuff. Sorry if it was boring. I just needed it to transition into what is going to happen next.**

 **Oh! Yeah. If you noticed that I changed my name, I did. Just 'cause, I guess. There's no reason for it, just that it is the same as my tumblr name, and I like it better than the last one.**

 **And, if you happen to see that in the reviews that I reviewed my own story, just know that I just got the fanfiction app and I was joking with my friend that I bet they forgot to make it so you couldn't review your own stories, so I was testing it out just to see, and it turns out that I was right and now it won't let me delete it. Soooo... yeah.**

 **And, yes, I stole the name of this chapter from the title of a fanfiction. I have no idea who wrote it or what it's about. I just saw it one time and I really liked the name.**

 **And sorry about the end of the last chapter, how it was in the present tense and whatever. I changed it as soon as I realized it, but it doesn't seem like anyone noticed, so I guess that it wasn't that big of a deal.**

 **REMEBER: Reviews are like puppies. Please, give me a puppy. I really want one.**


	7. Something Wicked This Way Comes

_**.**_

 _ **One cannot rule on**_  
 _ **On gold or diamonds,**_  
 _ **With a strong whip**_  
 _ **And faith on second hand.**_

 _ **The ones that rule**_  
 _ **Are the ones that willingly**_  
 _ **Jump into Hell**_

 _ **Feet first.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 7- Something Wicked This Way Comes**_

"Ok, so, any more ideas on how to gank this bitch?"

"Dean, we can't technically 'gank' it, since it's not a living thing."

"Sam, shut up. I bet your ass that I could go shoot a hole through it right now if I tried."

"Dean-"

"Stop!"

Both of our heads snapped around to look at Cas, who was standing at the end of the table, mildly aggravated and slightly more frumpled than usual.

"There is no time for meaningless bickering. We have the apocalypse on our hands, and we have made no progress in finding a way to end it."

"I suggest we find the nearest space ship and fly the fuck outta here," I added, putting my hands on my hips as Sam glared up at me from his place slumped at the table. He was playing with a coaster absentmindedly, so out of place in a way that wouldn't stop bugging me until I realized he always was on his laptop when he sat there, constantly researching or whatever he did while we were discussing stuff. It was such a perpetual thing that it was unsettling to see him without it, like a glitch in the Matrix or something.

"No, Dean, that would not work-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know," I said, waving off Cas's long winded explanation of why my plan was 'impossible in every aspect', or whatever shit he would say.

"Maybe we can find more information in a different location."

"No, no, we are done with all the reading. I'm not laying my eyes on another book if my life depended on it."

"It does."

"Well, uh, I'm still not doing it-"

"What if we summoned someone?"

Cas and I now were the ones to stop in our tracks and turn in unison, facing Sam as the thought bloomed on his face, and I swear I could hear the gears turning in his head as he thought it over.

"Yeah, someone with a lot of knowledge and power that we might could get some information or help from," he said.

"Who, like Crowley?" I asked, skeptical of the idea already. "You know our boy Cas over here slaughtered him-"

"No I did not-"

"No, no, not like Crowley," Sam interrupted again, looking down at the table in fierce concentration. "I was thinking more like Rowena."

"Rowena?" I exclaimed, looking at him like he was completely out of his mind. "Um, you seem to have forgotten that she tricked you into giving her the Codex, _and_ turned Cas into her little attack dog to kill her own son."

"I know, but she is one of the oldest people we know, and she has connections with people even older. There has to be someone in the witch community that knows something about this."

"I am sure that there are some demons that would know better," I countered. "And plus, I trust demons more than witches."

"Well, demons are much harder to capture- Wait."

"What?" I ask, crossing my arms in irritation.

His eyes flashed to mine, wide and full of revelation.

"Where are all the demons?"

"What?" I asked, incredulous.

"T-the demons, vamps, werewolves, shapeshifters. All the things we hunted, all the things that thrived in the dark. Where are they?"

It was in that moment that the realization spread through me like fever, starting in my head and tingling down my arms, making them fall to my sides, my legs losing their strength for a moment, knees almost giving out. _There was nothing._ They were all gone. The tulpas, the djinn, the skinwalkers, the werewolves, the wendigoes, the vamps, the demons. All of them. Gone. Not just that we didn't have the internet or the news to search cases and hunt the down. No, the night had swallowed the safety of the light, the loss of power had caused disarray, civilization was disassembling. Everyone was so vulnerable, the situation was so perfect for any monster that wanted a new victim. Just sit in the shadows and wait to pounce.

So why were they not running rampant?

"That... that is correct," Cas mumbled, eyes squinted and looking out into the distance. "I have not felt the presence of another supernatural being since the Darkness closed in."

"Wait, really?" I had to lean on the table to steady myself at the sudden epiphany that left my head spinning in search of an explanation. "And you just now decided to tell us?"

"No, I-I never realized. I was swept up in all of the chaos. I never had the time to notice their absence."

"So, there is absolutely no monsters anywhere?"

"Well, not in this area. Which in any case is highly unlikely. I am sure any monster or demon would take any chance, this one especially, to storm in on the Winchesters."

I took a deep breath and looked to Sam, so utterly mind-fucked that I had no idea what to think except that my stomach had suddenly decided that this was a great time to just twist up in knots. _This was bad. This was **bad**._

I mean, having all the big scary monsters disappear into thin air sure seems like a great thing, but having it happen the same time the Darkness chooses to show up brings up some suspicions.

"Do you think they are connected? This and the Darkness?" Sam asked, as if he could read my mind.

"All signs point to yes, but I suggest we do more investigating before we come to any conclusions," Cas said, tiredly rubbing his hand down his face.

"Okay," I started, already planning everything in my head. "Well, maybe we should go now. Me and you can take a car out and sweep some of the surrounding towns, Sam can stay here and watch Ha-"

"No, Dean," Cas states sternly. "You have not slept for the past ninety-six hours. A human's brain will usually start shutting down by then. You need sleep."

I was taken aback. I wanted to protest. I wanted to throw a fit and get my way. I wanted to deny his claims, assure him that I was alright. But then I saw the look on Sam's face, the deep concern that carved into his features, the understanding in his eyes as he looked me over, probably noticing all of the signs. He knew. He knew what it was like, sitting awake for days in that psych ward with Lucifer as his alarm clock that had no snooze button. He knew what it was like to be haunted by nightmares of the most disturbing creatures imaginable. He knew what it was like to be afraid to go to sleep.

He said nothing, just giving me a small nod of understanding, which was everything in the world.

Because I didn't know how I was still standing. I didn't know how I was still managing to form sentences because my brain felt like mush and my lips like clay. I didn't know how I hadn't blacked out yet, or how I hadn't started hallucinating, because I sure wished I had, I wished that everything had been a sleep-deprived day dream and I was just going crazy.

So, defeated, I nodded back, glancing to Cas before turning around and lumbering off to my lonely bedroom in hopes that I somehow would just collapse and pass out before I had to confront the screams again.

* * *

Hours later, I was still wide awake, staring up at the empty darkness that was my ceiling, listening to the noises of people wanking around the Bunker, the whispers of voices, the creaks of old floorboards.

I was too scared to close my eyes.

The backs of my eyelids were painted with blood, flashes of howling faces, gaping mouths, blood coated hands clawing at my windows, fists trying to break their way in. The screams still rang in my ears, gunshots forever echoing in my chest. My skin still crawled at the thought of the black blood splattering on my hands, on my clothes. I felt so unclean, poisoned, and all I wanted to do was wash it all off, clean all the memories away and forget it ever happened. But no amount of cheap convenience store soap could strip the shadows from my skin, wipe clean the smell from my senses, unhinge the jaws of panic that held me and just let me sleep peacefully for once in my life.

I don't know how long I laid there before the door opened, Cas stepping in with a single candle in hand, casting dim light over the hollow carcass of my room that was no home to me anymore.

I couldn't find the energy to tell him to leave, to go take care of bigger problems, to stop caring so much about me and start caring about the world and all the other people out there who probably had it so much worse. He shuffled up to my bed, his light like the sun, like a lighthouse savior in an ocean of screams, and I couldn't help but feel tears burn behind my eyes at his next words.

"Do you want me to put you to sleep?"

I wanted to laugh. I couldn't feel the tears leak from my eyes as I grabbed his arm with both hands and almost pulled him closer.

" _Please_."

* * *

Cas told me that I slept for two days. I didn't want to believe him, because I had never slept that long in my life, but I just kept quiet, wishing so desperately that I could have slept forever and never woken up again.

But two days was a long time to go without food, considering I had barely eaten beforehand, which left me almost bounding into the kitchen at the mere scent of something cooking.

I found a gutted and skinned deer carcass laying on the counter, quickly passing by the mess and striding into the library, where three figures sat at one end of the table, the one closest to the fire place.

"Hey, you got anything for me?" I asked as I sat down. Sam slid a loaded plate in my direction without a word. I grinned and immediately dug in without question, happy to quell my roaring stomach.

Haleigh sat across from me, hair braided nicely, blankets piled up to her neck, but smiling all the same as she picked at her food contently, chewing quiet loudly.

"You shouldn't chew with your mouth open," Sam chided, giving her a gentle smile. I rolled my eyes.

"Really, Sam. You're gonna teach her manners now?" _In the middle of the fucking apocalypse?_ "That stuff doesn't matter anymore. Haleigh, I say chew however you like." I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "I always like to chew extra loudly just to annoy Sammy here."

I could sense Sam's bitch face as Haleigh giggled, mouth full of half-chewed food.

After another pause, I turned to Cas, who sat at the end of the table, elbows resting on the arm rests, hands clasped together over his stomach.

"So, how about that plan. Say we leave after I finish eating and you and I can go out and investigate whatever. Maybe Sam can look around for a spell to summon Rowena in case we need it-"

I turned to talk to Sam, but he had seemed to have zoned out. I snapped in his face in an attempt to get him out of it, but it did nothing. It wasn't until then that I realized that he was furiously scratching at his wrists, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.

"Sam?"

He didn't answer, just staring absently into space.

"Sam?" He started when I put my hand on his shoulder, as if just realizing that I was there. "Sam, man, are you okay?"

It seemed to take him a moment to get his bearings. "Oh, uh, yeah-yeah. M'fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just-I-uh, I don't know. It just felt like there was bugs crawling on me or something."

I wanted to just shake it off, accept his answer, but something grew in the pit of my stomach at the sight of scratch marks I saw on his wrists and creeping up his neck. Part of me told myself it was probably some kind of rash, but I was deterred by something in Sam's eyes as they avoided my gaze. Something was wrong.

* * *

"Are you sure you're gonna be alright?"

"My God, Dean. I am fine. Stop acting like my mother," Sam snapped, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, you wouldn't be here if it weren't for my motherly instinct."

"Just go." He smiled. "I'll make sure to watch over Haleigh."

"And look for a spell to summon Rowena."

"Yes, yes I know. Go!"

"Fine, fine! I'm going!"

I waved goodbye to Haleigh as I stepped out of the door, giving Sam one last smirk as he crossed his arms before I shut the door, smile falling immediately. Cas was already in the car, second on from the front, waiting as I stood at the top of the stoop, keys in hand, shoulders drooping and feet too heavy to move. That was the first time I was separated from Sam since the Darkness was released, and I didn't want to take the chance of leaving in that car and never seeing him again. And now with Haleigh, I wasn't sure if I could just leave her there, unable to know if she was okay. All of the worry made my stomach churn, and I hadn't even left yet.

It wasn't the going outside that scared me. It was the outside coming in, the unknown that only grew the more we found out about it. I had thought that I had a handle on things, that maybe I had some clue about what the hell was going on, but it seemed that with each day that passed, things got more fucked, and the small amount of order I thought I held only got torn from my grasp.

 _Chaos thrives in the minds of those who think they rule._

I sighed and made the endless trek to the car, swinging the door open and getting inside, putting the key and turning on the ignition, slamming the door behind me.

* * *

 **Hello! Yes, I know this chapter is kind of short, but whatever. This is what I planned to happen in this chapter, it just ended up taking less words to say.**

 **And yes, I know the is an episode of Supernatural called 'Something Wicked This Way Comes', but I don't care. We read Macbeth in English class recently, and I have been obsessed with it ever since. I really thought that the name would fit this chapter, and the poem at the beginning is one I actually wrote for a Macbeth creative writing assignment we did, and I accidentally might have slipped in a teeny tiny little Macbeth reference in there somewhere, two if you squint really hard. No, but really, it was completely unintentional. I didn't realize until I went back and read over it and I was like OH MY GOSH YES IT IS SO PERFECT! Points to you if you can find it.**

 **But yes, I am extremely tired and ready to get this school year over with. I had so many projects that I had to work from when I got home to when I went to sleep for the entire week! And we had finals testing! There was one test that took us four hours to take! Four hours!**

 **But yeah, I really hope that we don't have a lot to do for the rest of the year, but we probably will. And my niece is going to be born in a month, so that's going to be crazy. But yeah, that all might get in the way of me updating. Yeah, I know, there's always something.**

 **REMEMBER: reviews are like...Shakespeare's plays...I have no idea how they are related, but give me reviews anyway. Fuel my Shakespeare obsession!**


	8. The World is Quiet Here

_**.**_

 _ **No breeze to share it's secrets,**_  
 _ **Not a whisper to my ear,**_  
 _ **No stars to drown out screaming**_

 **The world is quiet here.**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 8- The World is Quiet Here_**

I was so fucking tired of this shit.

First, the power goes out, then the sun stops shining, then people get struck with weird lightning and bleed black shit and go crazy, then the sun comes back and people go insane, then we find a broken little girl, Sam's got herpes, and now this? All the monsters are gone? Disappeared into thin air with no explanation?

I was done.

I couldn't handle this shit anymore.

I gave up. There, you happy? I gave up and just wined and cried about how much I wanted the old world back.

Okay, I didn't _cry,_ but I sure didn't shut up the whole car ride. Cas just sat and listened patiently the whole time, never moving to stop me, or tell me that I would be able to see the old world again someday, or tell me that everything was going to be okay, because that was a fucking lie and he knew it.

But I did really want the old world back. I wasn't even about the sun anymore. I missed the little things, like waking up early to find fresh dew on the grass, or the smell of ozone right before it was about to storm, or driving through quaint little neighborhoods on hunts to see all the nice little houses and the perfect little families. I missed dishwashers and clothes detergent that smelt like flowers, crowded bars and hot bartenders, the weird pictures on my phone that I took of Sam while he wasn't looking. I missed my box of cassette tapes I left in the Impala that was so many miles away in a place where I could never find it again. I missed going fishing when we were bored, sitting in the peaceful silence, watching the sun reflecting off of the clear water, listening to the waves lapping gently on the shore. I missed watching crappy television in crappy hotel rooms and having Sam tease me for liking Dr. Sexy so much. I missed fighting with Sam over what song to listen to, whose socks were whose, who messed with whose stuff. I missed life. I missed living.

And when I was finally done rambling, I turned to Cas and asked him what he missed.

He just turned to gaze out the window, the ghost of a smile on his face. "Well, as an angel, I _should_ say I miss heaven..."

"But..."

He sighed, shoulders slouching. "But I really don't. I know that they are my 'family', technically speaking, but I have never felt freer than when I am down here, on Earth."

"Even now? Even with the Darkness?"

"I never felt welcome in heaven. The divine are not my true family. I would only assume that they hate me, considering I slaughtered most of my brothers and sisters in cold blood. Even when I was helping in the search for God, they were quite hostile towards me. I could sense that I was not wanted." He paused, head drooping on his shoulders. "In truth, I would say that what I miss most is the nature. What I loved most about this world was how breath-taking it was. Nature is a force all its own, free from any human or godly controls, left in peace to grow and expand and flourish, so unlike the people that inhabit it. It is so unlike heaven, so unlike human societies, so gentle and kind and stunning all on its own, so unconstrained. I hate that this Darkness has stolen that from us. All that we have worked to save, to preserve, to cherish. It is all gone."

I wanted to slap him on the shoulder and tease him for being so sappy, but the ache in my chest screamed in understanding. The Darkness has taken away those moments standing in the middle of fields of grass, feeling as if you are the only person in the world; those rambling walks in the woods, only in the presence of blooming trees and swaying leaves; nights laying on silent hilltops staring at the stars just a breath away. The Darkness ripped leaves from branches, dried grass and withered flowers, choked off bird song, crushed bugs and starved wildlife. It killed the only thing that kept us free.

I took a deep breath and looked back to the road, fingers curling on the steering wheel. I let the silence pour in through the air vents, felt it gather, settle into the space between us, fill every crack and crevasse in the car. I watched, watched the world through unclouded eyes, mind not driven mad by light houses that lead to rock-sharp shores and blood stained waters. It looked so different now. The headlights cast sharp shadows across mangled metal heaps, walls of cars lined and clustered in packs on road sides, glass shattered and hanging onto window frames, doors and bumpers dented, crushed, crumpled, blood dried and flaking every few cars or so, painting the roads, mixing with the white and yellow of lane dividers.

The rest of the world was desert. Not a single plant in sight. Dust clung to every corner, curb, and drive. If there was any wind, the streets would have been covered with it. I could see the way it swirled and danced in our wake through the rear view mirror, watching it settle and sink to the ground solemnly as the headlights faded out. Scraggly trees peppered the slim view of land we had between the cars and the dim headlights. They were bare and rotten, dead and dying, deteriorated branches fallen and sometimes blocking the street. I always drove straight over them, wheels crumbling them to dust instantly, barely an issue.

My breath clogged the air and fogged the windows. I couldn't feel my fingertips, my gloves abandoned, one sat on the cracked leather of the seat beside me, the other lost in the shadows underneath the dash. It felt as if the whole world was holding its breath, mute and dizzy from lack of air. I could hear each piece of glass and stone grind under the wheels as we drove, each gun and knife rattle from the arsenal we poured in the trunk after every bump and turn. The list Sam gave me burned in my pocket, crumpled up and stuffed there. I had watched him write it all out, swallowed hard as he scribbled _FOOD_ at the top in his sharp scrawl, underlining it three times and moving on without a second thought. He knew any search was hopeless. It was all gone, taken or already far past rotten. But we were hungry. We were running out. We were getting desperate.

I could hear Cas sigh as I pulled off on next exit, eyes almost glowing in the dark as they slid, disheartened, over the plowed-down road sign and strangely empty car that had done the plowing, door hung open, but no mangled bodies to account for. Just torn seats and dried blood everywhere.

The town was empty.

I had been there many times before - it was the closest town to the Bunker, small and cheerful, full of family-owned delis and bakeries where we usually got our food. We were welcomed regulars, and I had come to know some of the families well. I always took over the responsibility of getting groceries, taking advantage of even the tiniest bit of normalcy, holding onto any moment that I could believe that I was just Mr. Winchester who lived down street, on his weekly trip to the bakery to have a quick chat and pick up some pie.

I almost forgot those moments even existed.

Those days seem like a lifetime away, as if they were from a crappy movie I watched a million years ago, set in a perfect little world that I could only dream to live in, but was only a set constructed from four walls that could barely hold out the real world. This wasn't a damn movie, though I'm sure someone out there would have thought this all would have been a great idea for the next big blockbuster. No, these were the nightmares that haunted people after watching unrated horror flicks. This was the snuff-film everyone whispered about but never believed to be real. These were those hidden deep-web mind-scarring videos that were never meant to be found.

This was the apocalypse movie no one ever wanted to make real.

My foot barely pressed the petal, car moving at a snail's pace because I was not sure if I wanted to see what I knew lied ahead. The streets were littered with trash, cans crushed under wheels, food boxes flat pressed, ground into the pavement and left there for what had to have been months. I could see rats moving in every dark corner, eyes reflecting in the headlights before they scurried off into the safety of the shadows. I checked if the doors were locked subconsciously, apprehension prickling on the back of my neck as my eyes searched every nook and cranny for something that I knew was not there, though the shadows moved all the same.

I turned onto the main street, the path I had taken so many times before, headlights twinkling in the cracked store windows, shattered glass sprinkling the sidewalks like diamonds. There was spray paint covering every free surface, pictures and words overlapping to the point where most walls were just unintelligible messes of faded colors. But some messages rang clear. On the window of a jewelry shop, someone had sprayed the words "GOD IS DEAD" in big messy letters. On an awning over a corner store, I could see "FORSAKE THE LIVING, WE ALL ARE DEAD HERE" in bright green.

Across the front door of the bakery, in streaked, dripping red letters, it read:

" _the world is quiet here_ "

I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut as I parked the car and shut it off. My hands found their way to my face, knuckles digging into my eyes as if I could rub the image away. I felt like a lifetime before I caught my breath, eyes blinking and fingers wrapping around the door handle as I moved to get out.

But there was a hand on my shoulder holding me back. I turned to find Cas looking at me with a world full of understanding in his eyes, fingers curled into my coat, like a anchor in the middle of a raging ocean.

"You don't have to go," he whispered.

 _He_ didn't want me to go.

He knew what I would see, he knew it would not be good.

"I need to."

He didn't stop me, didn't beg me to stay, to start up the car and get the hell out of there. He just gave me a small smile, a nod, let go of my sleeve, and came with me.

The moment I opened my door, I wanted to wretch.

All I could smell was death and decay. I mean, I had smelt my share of dead bodies, but this sure took the cake. I could only imagine how many corpses were hiding in buildings and in alleyways, piled up and rotting away to create the worst smell I had ever experienced. That, along with the strong stench of decomposing trees and what I could only guess was raw sewage, left me gagging and desperately plugging my nose for some relief.

The world outside the car was quiet in a way so much more horrifying than in. Without the thick metal walls to keep us safe, we were left open to the crushing weight of the mind-boggling silence. I felt as if I could sense the entire world, no sounds to form a barrier. I could feel how empty it was, so without life and things to create useless noise to fill the hollow air. It left my ears ringing trying to make sense of it all.

I slid my gun from my waistband, flashlight from my pocket, switching it on quickly in attempt to quell the growing darkness that plunged in the moment I turned the car off. It barely left a yellowed circle on the pavement as I stepped forward timidly, Cas right behind me. The handle of the flashlight bit into my palm, white knuckle grip only a symptom of my hesitance to use such a precious resource. Batteries were like food. They all ran out or went bad eventually. They were the second item on my list.

 _Main Street Bakery._ The window was cracked, but I could still read the words there, under the blood. A green open sign hung by one chain, half torn and stained, blocking out the happy welcome message. My fingers itched to reach for the doorknob, rusted and worn by time, sure that when I opened the door, I would instantly smell the aroma of baking bread and see the smiling faces behind the counter, feel the warmth of the ovens as I told the owners about my made up life with my made up family and convinced myself to believe that my words were true, if only for just a moment.

But there were bloody fingerprints on the doorknob, red footprints staining the welcome mat, black splatters leading down the street. My skin was already crawling. I wished I had thought to bring my gloves.

The knob was cold, freezing, actually. I had to peel my skin from the frigid metal before it seared my fingertips. The flashlight beam bobbed into the store, at first revealing nothing but the reflections off of the metal chairs and tables. I nudged the door open, wincing as it squeaked loudly, the bell above the door ringing pitifully at our arrival. The silence hung back around my shoulders in an instant, though, taking my breath away.

I took a firm step forward, placing my feet carefully, noting the debris that littered the floor, displaced by my boots. I could smell the dust that settled over the shop, rising in the beam of light, unsettled by my entry, burning in my throat. But the scent was quickly overcome by the thick odor of rot. I was instantly sent back through memories of hunts so many years ago, it seemed, of finding dead decaying bodies in basements and buried in foundations. The smell never fazed me, sometimes turning my stomach, but nothing more. Now, my whole body was convulsing, trying to empty my already empty stomach, already prompted by the smell outside. I pressed my nose into the sleeve of my jacket, coughing in attempt to quell my gagging, holding my breath.

Cas was in the doorway, hand still on the door, propping it open. My body was aching, every instinct telling me to turn around and run from the moment I spotted the bloody handprint on the countertop, feet betraying my mind as they stumbled forward on their own, my heart tearing out of my chest because there was no ignoring logic, no matter how much I wanted to deny it. I knew what I was walking into the moment I set foot out of the car.

But I couldn't hold it in anymore. As I met the end of the counter, I bent over and emptied my stomach. No amount inference and guessing could have prepared me for the sight. The stomach acid burnt my mouth, forced tears from my eyes, but it was nothing to distract me from the horrific sight in front of me.

Everything was red. It felt like drowning, really, plunged into a sea of red, red walls, red floors, red everything. There were no bodies. No, you could tell that they had been dragged out, however many, by the long trails of blood smeared across the tiled floor. But there was still . . . pieces left behind. A shoe was sitting there, foot still inside. Bits of intestines and muscle and bone were littered about. My foot was just inches away from half of a hand, seemingly ripped apart, a ring still on one of the fingers. All were decomposed almost beyond recognition, left for the animals to pick away at until they were just blood stains and dry bones.

I made the mistake of moving my flash light beam into the kitchen for a second too long.

I saw words there, a flash of red writing not unlike that on the door, enough to spark a fire in my gut, unsettled, but burning with rage. I stomped around the partition, dancing around the minced meat, swallowing down more bile and my heart that had jumped into my throat, hands shaking so much that the beam of light practically vibrated across the cracked blue tile.

I fell to my knees, legs unable to hold my weight any longer.

"No," I moaned. "No, no, no."

It was like some kid's finger-painted nightmare. There was writing everywhere, sloppy, red, dripping words on every surface. In all different sizes and directions, taking up every free square inch of space. The more I looked, the more I saw, the more I realized, it was all the same thing, over and over and over again.

" _the_ _world is quiet here_ "

 _Over_ and _over_ and _over_ and _over_.

The only thing different was the bone-chilling painting of a smiling face on the ceiling, features twisted to create the disturbing image of the devil himself, horns and all.

I dropped my flashlight, gun forgotten, fists curling into the fabric of my jeans, subconsciously aware of Cas stepping around the partition and staring in awe at the scene before him.

"T-they had a daughter. The couple that owned this place." I didn't even realize that I was talking. "They talked about her all the time when I came in. She was going to college, someplace in Colorado, studying to become a doctor. She was gonna graduate next year, get married to some nice girl she met there. They were so proud of her." I paused, voice shaking. "I wonder how she is doing. I wonder if she has been killed yet."

Cas didn't respond, whether lost for words or in quiet mourning of that poor girl that had such a bright future, that I had heard so many good things about, that had such amazing parents, who probably died a long time ago along with the rest of the world.

"We . . . we don't have to stay," Cas whispered, leaning heavily on one of the cabinets. "We don't have to get supplies. We can go home."

I let out a long sigh, squeezing my eyes shut once again, just wishing for once that I could leave the safety of the bunker and not be mentally scarred for the rest of my life, however long it would last.

"No," I breathed.

"What?"

"No," I said, louder this time. "No. We came out here to get supplies and check around for monsters, and that's what we are going to do, no matter what." My eyes snapped open as I turned around to look at him, a new determination in my voice. "This is important. We need this stuff. I shouldn't have even come here in the first place."

I stood up, grabbing my gun and flashlight, striding out of the bakery without a single word, jumping in the car and slamming the door shut, waiting for Cas to follow.

* * *

I spun the key ring around my finger incessantly, other hand twitching for my gun in my waistband. We were walking through the eerily empty parking lot of the local supermarket, our car the only one in the entire lot. I wanted to punch myself for actually parking in a parking space, not even one of the handicap ones, as if this was some every day shopping spree. Truthfully, I had zoned out, my brain on auto pilot, going off muscle memory. I had already parked and gotten out before I realized what I done. It was pretty obvious once I looked around at the desolate parking lot full fallen light posts and discarded trash that this wasn't my usual beer run.

I felt like some kind of criminal prying the sliding doors open. Usually, I wouldn't have bat an eye at the thought of breaking and entering. But it just felt weird breaking into a grocery store, especially one where old grannies always shopped and stopped me in the produce isle to show me pictures of their grandkids. I guess that just goes to show how twisted we were.

The place smelt rank, as to be expected. My skin crawled at the sight of rat feces caked all over the floor, trying not to think about it under my boots as we walked in, hand swatting at the flies that seemed to gather around my face, my flashlight sweeping back and forth over the registers at the front, racks empty of flashy junk food and gossip magazines. I wanted to question why people's first choice of something to steal in the apocalypse would be some stupid celebrity nonsense, but all I could see in the deep crevassed shadows were the faces of that family, the Waltons, the bakers who always talked to me so nicely and treated me like any other, eyes wide in fear as their door was broken down, screams piercing as they were ripped apart like meat, their blood used to paint the walls of the place they may have called home. And it is all my fault.

I almost smiled when I saw the long stacks of carts lined up in the corner, and I couldn't help but go over and tug one out, pushing it forward on squeaking wheels in some fucked up attempt at normalcy that was all I seemed to want to achieve anymore. I only made it a few feet forward before my stomach was turning at the reality of it, the realization like some dumb bird at a window, slamming into the glass again and again because I wouldn't open the damn thing. So ignored it and kept pushing.

There were little mini fridges at the end of each register line, perfect placement to convince costumers to by unnecessary soft drinks just out of pure convenience. I checked in the first one, just 'cause, but was surprised to find a couple of sodas left, and even more surprised to see several water bottles in the back. I shoveled everything into the cart, motioning for Cas to look into the rest of the fridges and do the same. As we filled the cart, I couldn't help but shake my head at the stupidity of man. Leave the water but take the porn mags? No wonder we had to save humanity's ass so often.

The first isle was a mess of ransacked cereal boxes and empty food wrappers. Pretty much useless, considering all the boxes on the lower shelfs had been chewed to pieces and made into crap holes for animal that passed through. I wanted to scream when I pushed a box of Froot Loops out of the way and a rat sprang out, scrambling over my shoe in attempt to hide under one of the shelves. Ew.

There wasn't much to find, as expected. The bread was just frozen green lumps that more resembled hockey pucks than actual bread. The produce section was just trays of brown mush, the deli too surrounded by flies for us to get near. I was starting to wonder how all these vermin were seeming to thrive in this famine and cold when we were struggling to survive.

We found some soap and shampoo and other toiletries left on shelves, and at that point I really didn't care if I smelt like sunflowers and apple trees, I was just happy to be able to be clean.

I was grinning all the way to the back of the store. The moment I saw the sign for liquor, I was running.

"Aw, yes, this is just what I was looking for," I smiled, holding up a case of beer to inspect the label. I was loading everything into the cart before Cas could even say that he wasn't sure if all the alcohol was necessary. I wouldn't have cared anyways. I could finally drink the screams away. I would be able to sleep tonight.

I was about to grab the last bottle if wine when a hand clamped around my arm. I was pulled down, bottle jostled from my grip, falling to the ground and shattering into a million pieces, spraying blood red wine all over my pants and the floor. I could barely turn my flashlight in time to see a face flying toward mine, wide, bloodshot eyes just a few inches from my own.

There were two hands on my arm now, shaking me, jerking me back and forth with a force that caused my feet to slip up under me, barely able to find purchase. I couldn't breathe. The hands were at my throat, in my chest, squeezing my lungs, my mouth left hung open, eyes popping out of my head, frozen in shock, frozen in time as I watched this person's mouth move in slow motion, completely silent.

"My son!" Her voice was like a bullet shattering the fragile silence, the world moving back into motion as everything came crumbling to pieces.

She was ripping my arm out of its socket. "Save him! Help my son!"

Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, shrill and grating, but slurred and gargled as if she had had a stroke. I could barely understand her through her hysteria. She was jumping up and down, falling to her knees and scrambling back up again, slipping in the puddle of wine as she tried with all her might to drag me forward, begging and sobbing for me to help her son, tears and snot marring her already filthy face.

"Please! Please help him! Save my son!"

She was slobbering on my sleeve, a complete shaking mess, hair caked to her head with grease, clothes torn and stained, teeth black and breath worse than corpse farts. But I just couldn't stop looking at her.

I hadn't even realized that I had followed her, away from Cas, who felt like a million miles away when he called after me, away from my gun, which I had left in the baby seat of the shopping cart, and toward a corner of the store that seemed to engulf all light, a black hole so dark but so enticing, as if I couldn't escape its pull.

"Here! He's here! Under the shelf! Help him! Help him!" A shelf had fallen across the isle, making it unable to pass. It was propped up against the wall, but it was so dark that I couldn't see what was under it, even with my flash light.

"Please, lift up the shelf! I can't, I'm not strong enough!" The woman pleaded, fallen to her knees beside me, tugging on my sleeve so hard that I was forced to kneel down beside her. She continued to point under the shelf frantically, screaming at me to save her son. The shelf was metal, cold even through my gloves. I braced my hands under it, and started to lift, even though I did not know this woman, even though I could hear no other screams from the boy she said was trapped, even though I could see nobody trapped under there anyways, even though this woman was completely crazy and I was feeling as if I was too.

Two things happened at once. I flipped the shelf over, it not being very heavy at all, revealing absolutely nothing underneath, at the same time that a screech rang out from behind me, bright blue light flashing out and casting a glow over the ilse, revealing an obvious shelter further down, dried blood visible in a trail leading up to the entrance of it that was the opening between two more fallen shelves.

I spun around, eyes wide at the sight of the woman crumpled on the ground, Cas looming over her, his expression pensive as he observed her dead body.

"What did you do?"

His eyes flicked up to mine, blow furrowed almost angrily, jaw set.

"She was about to kill you." He kicked a rusted and bloodstained kitchen knife from her hand, letting it clatter to the ground. "I tried to warn you. She is covered in that black substance."

I blinked hard, head spinning. I held my breath in disbelief as I slid the flashlight beam over her, noticing for the first time the black that oozed from her ears and the cuts on her torso. I swallowed shakily at the sight of blood crusted to her skin, coating her hands all the way up to her elbows.

I turned back to the small shelter, taking a deep breath before stepping over the fallen shelf and striding towards it.

"What are you doing?" Cas growled.

I stopped, looking at him over my shoulder. "What if she actually did have a son?"

He moved to follow me. "But, he could be dangerous as well-"

"He could be a kid."

He closed his mouth, shaking his head in disapproval, but I went forward all the same.

Cas helped me move the shelves aside, brooding the whole time. I had no idea why he kept helping me fulfill this sick curiosity of mine, both of us knowing that for the second time that day, nothing good would come of this.

The little grovel was filthy, full of rat carcasses and animal bones and excrement. I almost turned and left in disappointment, some kind of distant hope of actually saving the boy dying in my stomach. But in the corner, I spotted a head of hair amongst the bloodstains and piles of soiled blankets. But the small fire in my chest burned out in an instant as I got closer, flashlight revealing the shredded remains of a child, probably only eleven or twelve, chest and stomach sawed open, bones and organs picked apart, leaving only a cavity behind.

I guess that's where the blood on the woman's hands came from.

My foot was already throbbing by the time I realized I was kicking the nearest shelf as hard as I fucking could. Cas was pulling me away, practically dragging me, away from that poor boy, away from his own mother that turned him into some kind of messed up Happy Meal. I had to stop and throw up again, out of disgust, out of anger, I don't know, but I sure had run out of half-digested food a long time ago, and now it was just clear liquid that burnt my throat like fire and made my mouth taste like blood. I shoved Cas out of the way when he tried to push the cart, steering it myself through the winding ilses recklessly, ignoring his attempts at condolence as he stumbled to keep up with me.

I threw the shit into the backseat, kicking the cart over and jumping into the car, starting it up.

I thought that was it. I thought that that was all the shit I could possibly go through in one day. I thought that I could finally go home and drink myself into oblivion.

Boy, was I wrong.

Maybe, if I hadn't chosen to go a back way, maybe if I hadn't been a little bitch and gone back down Main Street, past the bakery, maybe if I had seen that dead end sign, I would have turned back.

The road stopped, dissolved into gravel, ran into what used to be a field behind an old farm. It could have been normal. It could have been fine. I could have just shrugged and turned around and continued on like nothing happened.

But I couldn't move. All I could do was stare out the window in horror, mouth hung open, eyes wide. There were dozens of them, hundreds. Crosses, wooden crosses, crucifixes, stuck into the ground like arrows pointing to heaven. On each one, a person was hung. Some bloody, some black stained, all dead. The one closest to us was just feet from the front of the car. The man on it was shirtless, pale in death, eyes still open. Across his chest in all red was carved those words, those words that painted the bakery red, those five words that still haunt me to this day, the same five words that were written on every member of that small town that had been killed, taken from their homes, strung up there in that field.

And I'm glad I couldn't reach my gun because I wanted to shoot myself.

* * *

 **Wow, okay, even _I_ think this chapter is a little sick. I hope that none of you have a problem with gore and cannibalism and outright disturbing shit, because things are going to get a lot worse from here.**

 **Also, sorry about the long wait. I have been writing this chapter over a period of weeks because I was finishing up school, and I'm sure we all know what that is like. I have been really busy, but I got out of school a week ago, and I have been trying to catch up on the probable years of lost sleep I have piled up.**

 **Also also, I am really pissed off at the season finale. When I was watching it, I really hated it, but the more I think about, the less horrible it is. But it was still a piece of shit, mind you. I don't know if I am going to watch the next season (I probably will, because Supernatural is like a drug I cannot live without).**

 **Also also also, I saw X Men: Apocalypse, which was pretty shitty too. So many disappointments in life recently.**

 **REMEMBER: Reviews are like new Supernatural episodes. We rarely get them.**


	9. House of the Rising Sun

.

 _ **I lived in a valley where the sun only rose on Sundays**_  
 _ **It crested over emerald mountain tops,**_  
 _ **Shone bright through cracked church windows,**_  
 _ **Warmed the faces of children stirred awake in early morning.**_  
 _ **It crawled fingers across tiled rooftops,**_  
 _ **Painted the sky with fire as it sat on each horizon,**_  
 _ **Beat down on our shoulders as we prayed in swatches,**_  
 _ **Begging, hoping to not be plunged into darkness once again.**_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 9- House of the Rising Sun_**

My face was pressed into the hard leather of the backseat, eyes squeezed shut at the headache that pounded at my skull. My fingers were tangled together, hands held tensely to my forehead as if I was praying. My knees hung over the narrow seat cushion, feet tucked between the gap by the door. I couldn't tell if I was breathing or not. I was trying to stop my body from shaking, stop my stomach from convulsing, stop the screams from sticking pins into my brain.

Cas never said a thing. After I turned around and drove away, he didn't utter a word. But I could hear every single one of his thoughts as if he were speaking them aloud, every thought that echoed my own. We came to a silent agreement to never speak of what we saw, never turn the images into words painted with blood that would burden the minds of anyone who heard.

But I was tired. I was so tired. Soon I couldn't feel my limbs and my eyes had begun to flutter closed. The auto-pilot I had been running on for the past week shut down at the worst moment. My hands dropped from the wheel and the car swerved into a battered red pickup. I couldn't even feel the impact. I blacked out before my eyes even shut for the final time. Cas had managed to reach over and stop the car, steer it back onto the road. I had felt his trembling hands on my face as he tried to shake me awake, heard the panic in his voice as he thought me to be dead.

So, yeah. Here I was, banished to the back seat. After Cas had almost had a panic attack trying to wake me up, he told me I needed to lie down, try to sleep for few minutes at least. He moved all the stuff from the store into the trunk to leave room for me, but probably more so so I wouldn't get my hands on the liquor and drink myself to death.

But even after completely blacking out from weeks' worth of no shut-eye, I still could not lie my soul to sleep. My body was stiff, every muscle tense, heart still beating a mile a minute even though we had kicked up dust and booked it out of _there_ almost half an hour ago. But no matter how many miles we but between us and it, _there_ felt like just a breathe away, the mangled bodies and blood caked on every surface still making my skin crawl, the sight of the infinite field full of crucifixes that rolled over hills and stuck up from shadowed valleys as far as the eye could see branded into the backs of my eyelids, the thought of the grey, blank, dead faces of the city strung up on sticks for the whole world to see, like a monument to the sick and twisted minds of humans who are left to thrive in the dark too long making it impossible for me to have ever felt safe stepping outside of the bunker ever again.

I sighed and turned over, opening my eyes to stare at the car's ceiling, hand pressed to my churning stomach, so hollow but so sickened. I could see the silhouette of Cas's head as he drove, rimmed in the dim glow of the headlights. It reminded me of the pictures of the biblical figures in the Bible that I had seen too many times. Mary holding baby Jesus, her head ringed with a golden halo that glowed like the sun, merciful angels descending from the clouds surrounded by the light of stars. All I could do was wonder why the angels weren't like those in the Bible. Why did they all fall to the corruption of man and turn to the brute ways of war against their own kind? Why did so many betray their father's orders and break free from Heaven's hold when Heaven was supposed to be a place of perfection? And more importantly, why, even now, when all of His favorite creations were stuck in the middle of the ultimate apocalypse, was He still silent?

Why would He not save us?

* * *

I slammed the car door and strode up the steps, pushing past Sam who had probably been waiting around and wringing his hands for hours now; crashing through the bunker door and slamming into the kitchen, snatching a glass from the cupboard and pouring in the whiskey I slipped from the trunk.

Slumping down in a dining room chair, I had already downed one glass and was pouring myself another before I heard the pattering of small feet coming down the hallway.

"Deany! Deany! Did you get my candy? Did you get the cho-co-lates?" Haleigh was jumping up and down at my side, tiny fingers digging into my arm, pulling at my coat sleeve with the biggest smile on her face. I eyed the whiskey in the glass as it was jostled back and forth in her excitement, remembered how I promised her Hershey kisses, how I walked right past the probably empty candy isle, not even making the effort to look, instead running straight for the booze. I remembered the deranged mother who tried to kill me and her son who we were far too late to save.

"Sorry, honey, there wasn't any candy. It was all gone," I said as I downed the rest of the glass.

* * *

"So, what did you find out on your little trip?"

I was cornered. Sitting at the table in the library alone when Sam walked in. Haleigh was taking a bath. Cas was off where ever he goes off to when he needs to think. Perfect timing. Sam sat down right beside me, never said a word until I finally realized that he wanted something. I was already planning my escape before the words came from his mouth, but there was nowhere to go. It was so cold that our huge bunker was reduced to the usable size of about half of a room. Going more than ten feet away from the nearest fireplace was a guaranteed trip to frostbite land, and I was already afraid my toes were about to just snap off.

He raised his eyebrows, challenging but still sympathetic. He knew I didn't want to talk about it. He knew something awful happened. But he knew it was necessary that I spill my guts. And I knew it too.

I just didn't know if I could.

"Well, we didn't find much concerning food-"

"Seems like you found the liquor isle well enough." His tone was snarky, but still overlaid with caution. His words still made me cringe inwardly at the thought of the liquor cabinet stocked full just a few feet behind me, though.

"There weren't any monsters," I mumbled, shifting in my seat. "They're gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" His accusing stare transformed into that of confusion, like he still had been holding onto the hope that his speculation had been wrong.

"I don't know!" I snapped under my breath. Haleigh was just a few rooms away. I could still hear her splashing in the tub, giggling.

"Well, they must be somewhere! They can't all be hiding under a rock somewhere!" Sam seethed, the agitation rising in his voice almost out of nowhere. I stopped for a beat in concern when I could have sworn I saw a flash of something wild in his eyes, heard a subtle change in the tone of his voice.

"Come on, Dean! You can't just sit there and tell me everything is okay. We need to get out there and do something about this-" I could see his eyes narrow as he noticed me staring, but as he fidgeted in discomfort, I caught a glimpse under his collar of the red lines carved into his throat.

I took a deep breath. "Man, are you okay?"

Before Sam could answer, Cas came bustling into the room, slightly flustered as he looked between us with a look of unmasked puzzlement.

"I have gotten girl out of the bath and put her to bed in your room like you asked, Sam. Is the ritual ready?"

Sam looked back to me, expression suddenly grim but reserved, just like always, with no hint any of the strange mannerisms of before, almost like it had never happened.

So when Sam gave a small nod and got up to leave with Cas to begin the ritual, I convinced myself that I was just seeing things.

* * *

"You ready?" Sam breathed, tone grave. There was a match grasped between his shaking fingers, poised and ready to strike.

Cas and I got into position, standing stern on each side of the table, shadows curling around our feet. Sam seemed to take a breath before lighting the match. I could see the orange glow reflected in his eyes as he let it go and watched it fall until it hit the bowl and lit up in a plume of blue flame.

"Samuel," a voice purred, "what is it you need now?"

I inched forward unintentionally, practically bouncing on the balls of my feet in anticipation as her form materialized before the fire. The words fell from my mouth with no premonition. "We need answers."

Rowena started, letting out a small gasp as she drew her hands to her chest, stumbling back a few steps. "D-dean-"

"Yeah, yeah. No time for happy reunions. We need answers and we need them now," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest.

Her arms lowered, face softening. Her glittery makeup shone gold in the candle light as she blinked heavily. "You don't want to kill me?"

I scoffed. "Well, of course I want to kill you. You just happen to always have something that we need."

The memory of finding out that Sam was working with the witchy bitch herself made my eye twitch, but there was obviously more concerning issues at hand than petty revenge.

"What do you want of me this time, then? Unicorn blood? Sekhmet's home address? The location of the Fountain of Youth? Come on, boys, I can't just keep performin' miracles for yer-"

"We just want information," Sam interjected, jaw clenching.

"Oh, well, I've got all kinds of information, yer gonna have to be more specific-"

"The Darkness. We want to know about the Darkness."

Her face fell. Shadows carved into her sharp features as her shoulders slumped forward, making her seem even smaller in the giant room. Her fingers twisted together anxiously, mouth opening and closing like a floundering fish.

"Well..."

"What do you know?" Sam roared, slamming his hand down on the table. She visibly jumped and closes her eyes, shaking her head.

"I-I don't-"

"The Darkness. What is it?"

For a moment, all she did was breath. Her knuckles were ghost white now, mouth a thin line. My eyes were stuck on her fingers, thin like spider legs, twisting and curling and weaving in such a panic as she played through her consequences in her little ginger head.

After a beat, she finally let out a long sigh and spoke, defeated.

"It's a virus."

The room became unsettled as we all looked at each other, shifting, unsure, in our places.

"It's an awful, terrible, disgusting thing." She spit out the words like they were poison. "It infects the minds of the weak, drives 'em insane, slowly melts their brains until there's nothing left, and then moves to their organs until it kills 'em completely."

I didn't realize that I was holding my breath until my lungs started screaming for air. I needed to sit down. I needed to lie down, lie down on the floor and just never get up. I needed to wake up from this never ending night mare.

"You're saying this is the fucking Walking Dead?" My voice felt like a blender in my throat, full of rocks and marbles that ground my vocal chords raw.

"What?"

"Is this just another Croatoan virus? Are we just living a shitty zombie movie?"

Suddenly she was across the room and inches away from me, her eyes so full of rage as they locked with mine, voice shaking in attempt to stay even.

"This is so much worse than your silly zombie movies," she hissed, stabbing a finger at the ground. "The infected aren't dead. They're completely human. They're driven to insanity as their brains boil in their skulls and run out their ears. It comes on quickly, starts only hours after bein' infected. And there's no way to stop it. There's no way to avoid it. I travels through the air. It preys on the weak minded, drills its way into their minds until they are sick, so sick that they would turn on their only friends and try to kill them."

I blinked hard at her words, unable to completely swallow them down. Her breaths were heavy as my eyes moved between hers, reading the sadness in them hidden behind walls of unrelenting anger.

"How do you know?"

For a split second, I could see something there, the slightest change in her features, a tightening in her cheeks, a crease between her eyebrows, a sheen in her eyes. I counted the seconds as she mulled over her words, saw her lip quiver as she opened her mouth, her voice coming out as only a throaty whisper.

"I've seen it happen."

She sighed once again as she turned away half-heartedly. It was so quiet that I could hear Haleigh's fitful snoring down the hall. Rowena's shoes were heavy, clunking against the floor with each sauntering step she took, head hung sorrowfully, shoulders sloping in the light of the fire crackling in front of her.

"My friend, she was infected. She was part of my coven. We were tryin' to find a spell that would let us travel back in time so we could escape the Darkness, but nothin' was workin'."

"Wait, your magic isn't working?" Sam's eyes were shining in a way that I hadn't seen in years. The familiarity unsettled my stomach, but I couldn't seem to place it.

"Only in the area of time travel. Seems like the Darkness has trapped us here, indefinitely. I've been workin' for months, but I haven't found a way to escape."

She paused, continuing to walk around the room, passing in and out of the shadows. "My friend, she was a bright young witch. I'd been her teacher for many years, and I could tell she was gonna be a great witch. But, one day, 'bout a month ago, I could see somethin' was wrong. We'd been out when that lightning struck, lookin' around for ingredients for a spell, and I think that's where it came from."

"The lightening?" Sam asked.

"The sky. The clouds. The Darkness. It's part of it. I believe it sent it down through the lightening and infected the people it struck, then set 'em off to infect others. That's how she got infected. She was almost killed by one of 'em, after they got struck. We barely got out alive. It didn't take long to take effect. Almost an hour later, her brain was leakin' right out o' her head and. . . .and-"

"What?" I asked, impatiently tapping my fingers on the back of a chair that I was gripping just a bit too tight.

"She...she tried to kill me." Her voice cracked, and I could see the outline of misery on her face as she wallowed around theatrically. "She picked up a ritual knife and tried to stab me, right in the chest! I saw the look in her eyes. It wasn't her, not anymore. I had to wrestle the knife away from her and-and..."

Sam, sensing the tears about to be shed, changed the subject. "Okay, okay, what about any demons, monsters. Have you encountered any in the past months?"

She sniffled, rubbing at her face. "Wha'? No, they're gone. The Darkness took 'em away."

"What?"

"Well, that's my best guess. They've been gone since the moment the Darkness hit. I was makin' a deal with a vampire at the time, you know, gettin' blood in preparation for a spell to get the hell out o' there before anything happened. Vampire just disappeared right into thin air, right as I was tradin' him some birch root-"

"Disappeared into thin air?" Sam's stressed words only blended with Rowena's in the tornado growing in my head. This was all becoming too much to process. I mean, finding out that monsters were real and that it was my life's job to kill them wasn't much to fret over compared to this. Even learning that your brother set off the Biblical apocalypse and that it was your birthright to be a douchey archangel's meat suit in the fight against the devil was just another walk in the park in comparison to this disaster. This was beyond human comprehension, even to me. It still felt like this was all a horrible nightmare that I was going to wake up from at any moment, but my body simply would not let me open my eyes to relieve me from this dark insanity.

I would take any other messed up nightmare of our past over this.

"Samuel, I am sure you have workin' ears, so there is no need for me to keep repeatin' myself. I would appreciate it if you could just be a wee quiet mouse and listen to me!"

I looked up to see Rowena snap at Sam, who gave a confused smirk at her words, shutting his mouth with a huff and crossing his arms over his chest angrily.

"I know this all sounds a bit loony, but I assure you, I'm tell you the sincere truth. I believe that the Darkness is some kind of ancient force, locked away by the Mark by an even more powerful force."

"What could be more powerful than this? It seems pretty fucking almighty to me," I huffed, trying to hide how my stomach was obviously churning at her ominous words.

"God."

All eyes were on Cas as his eyes lit up like the candles flickering beside him on the table.

"God. It had to have been God. A being so powerful it can permanently block out the sun and remove millions of monsters from the face of the earth all at once? Only God could be the one to defeat something that omnipotent." A great smile grew on his face, so wide it was unsettling as he looked between three of us with something close to giddy excitement in his eyes.

"Cas..."

"No, Dean. I am being serious. God could help us. If He was the one to lock this thing away, He can do it again-"

"Cas, we have been through all this before-"

"But I am sure He is out there. He can help-"

"Where? Where is he?" I screamed. Cas's face fell as I leaned forward on the table, staring up at him with all the anger that had been bubbling in my stomach since my little revelation in the car earlier today.

"He isn't here, Cas. He never was, He never will be. We have looked everywhere for Him, prayed and prayed for Him to help us, but guess what? Zip. Zilch. Nothing. He has never made a move to save us or anyone else on this _god-forsaken_ Earth. He isn't going to have a change of heart suddenly because a big storm cloud is killing off all of his blessed children. He doesn't care, because he doesn't exist, Cas! Haven't you figured that out already?"

And even though Cas broke so visibly right before me, my anger prevented me from regretting my words. Even when he turned and blinked out of existence without one final word, I still held my ground.

"Well, you didn't have to go off and make the wee angel cry," Rowena snapped, crossing her arms and looking pointedly at me.

"There's no need for him to go dreaming about God again-"

"Look, I don't care what your feathery boyfriend dreams about at night. I just want to know if you can stop this thing."

I paused, at a loss for words. Once glance at Sam told me that he had no answer either.

"Rowena, we don't really know-"

"Fine, I guess I'll be leavin' then."

"Wait, what?" I said as she turned to leave as well.

"I told you everythin' I know," she said over her shoulder. "So, if you don't know what to do, then I guess I'll just make the best of what time I have left, because if the Winchesters can't save the world, then there is no hope left."

She gave a sad smile before snapping her fingers and disappearing, leaving the room feeling more empty than it ever had before.

* * *

 **Hello again! Yes, yes, I know it has been a super long time since I updated. Sorry for that. I have no idea how I managed to not update the entire summer. But I have been super busy since school started, being a junior and having two AP classes, Art 2, U.S. History, along with having to go to my sister's graduation half a state away, and being so sick to the point where I almost passed out in English class a few days ago. This has been my only free time in the last three weeks and I start up community service next month, so that is going to take up more of my time as well, but I will try my hardest to make time for writing because I really am excited to finish this fic and I have already outlined the final chapters so there shouldn't be many problems with updating unless I really just let my life get out of hand hehehe...**

 **Sorry if the second half of this chapter is really crappy. I haven't been very inspired lately. I kind of forced this chapter out just so I can move on to the next one already, because I really don't like information dumps, but I didn't really plan out a better way to introduce all this (I only just now thought to start outlining the chapters before I actually wrote them).**

 **Also, has anyone watched Stranger Things? I watched it last weekend when I was sick and I absolutely loved it. What were your thoughts?**

 **As always, remember that reviews are like weekends. They are great rewards after days of hard work. And I wish that there were more of them.**


	10. A Day in the Life

_**.**_

 _ **I wake up each morning to a cold sunset on the west horizon,**_  
 _ **Eat dinner alone with the heavy presence of night in the chair to my right,**_  
 _ **Brush my teeth staring at my inverted reflection in the cracked mirror,**_  
 _ **Shower in frigid water and dress in clothes that aren't mine,**_  
 _ **Sit on the hard unforgiving floor and stare at the television static,**_  
 _ **Pick at my lunch as the harrowed moon stares at me through the fogged window,**_  
 _ **Practice the same old song on the weary piano that has never heard another tune,**_  
 _ **Waltz silently along the narrow rug that lines the hall, worn brown from my dancing feet,**_  
 _ **Paint the familiar stars that speckle the sooty sky, knowing them each by name,**_  
 _ **Down breakfast as the shadows begin to walk the walls and crawl the floor,**_  
 _ **And go to sleep as the pale sun rises from the murky night like a bloated body rises to the  
**_ _ **surface of blood soaked waters**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 10- A Day in the Life**_

It was early in the morning.

Well, that was what my body was telling me, tired eyes squinting into the darkness, mind still fuddled with the heavy blanket of sleep that felt almost smothering. I was subconsciously searching for my clock, numb and detached in my attempt to remember what day it even was. But all I found was a blinding fire that burned my eyes and sent me blinking spots from my vision.

I fell slack when the realization settled on me like a not so gentle sea of bricks, staring at the black expanse of the ceiling in defeat, knowing that I should probably get up and start thawing out some food before everyone else began to rise like zombies, starving and weighed down by the previous day's events.

All I knew is that I needed a beer.

Even though I had been lucky enough to get a few hours of soundless sleep for the first time in days, the nightmares still followed me like pesky flies into my waking moments, making it hard to make it through each dark day without something to soften the edges of the memories and quiet the screams just a little.

And my back hurt. Lying on the floor wasn't good for anyone, especially someone of my age (not saying that I'm old, just that most people over the age of five don't take well to spending four hours on the cold hard ground). I missed my memory foam that sat all alone just a few rooms away, but we hadn't found the time to do more than lay down a few blankets in front of the fireplaces and gather some pillows and couch cushions to make make-shift mattresses that were barely one step up from crappy Wal-Mart sleeping bags. It had gotten too cold to be sleeping in our rooms, so we had to resort to downsizing, moving everything important into the library, where we wouldn't freeze to death, not having much time to make it as homey as I would have liked. Serves me right for finally settling down, I guess.

I let out a long sigh, throwing my arm over my eyes and wishing that I could just wake up to my room again. Wake up to warm showers and clean clothes. Wake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of bacon cooking. Wake up to the sun shining through the narrow windows and the t.v. playing bad daytime television. Wake up to Sam talking about a case and a long drive in the Impala. Wake up to a life worth getting out of bed for.

I turned over, ignoring a growling stomach and the growing weight of my responsibilities piling up on me, hand hitting something warm as I readjusted the covers. I froze, lifting up the blanket to reveal a sleeping Haleigh curled up on the couch cushion that I had probably rolled off of in the middle of the night. Her hand was still lightly wrapped around the edge of my coat, face so peaceful and serine that it was hard to believe that she had been through all she had. She looked like a child, not a battered girl forced to grow up in wake of being kidnapped from her family because the world was ending.

I looked up to see that Sam was gone from his pile of blankets, probably what prompted Haleigh to come over here in the first place. But I didn't care where he was. I didn't have the energy to care about anything anymore, but I knew sleep was no longer in the question, so I rearranged the blankets to make sure Haleigh was covered and settled back down just to watch her sleep unfitfully for the first time since she had been here, knowing, for that moment, that she was okay.

* * *

The bathroom was dark.

The only light came from the small not-so-cinnamon-scented dollar store candle that rested on the sink, dim and leaving a ring of flickering light on the tiled counter that fell off the edge and casted dull shadows onto the moldy bath mat, reflecting in the cracked lid of the toilet, doing nothing to mask the heavy smell of mildew hanging in the air. I couldn't help but stare at it as I sat in the bathtub, slumped down in the cooling water, tracing absent circles into the soapy film by my knee.

I never liked taking baths. They always seemed so cumbersome compared to the convenience of a shower. And growing up in dingy hotel rooms kind of turned me away from the idea of having any unnecessary contact with the health violations that were motel bathtubs.

But now, I was forced to take bubble baths like some little kid and it was humiliating, even though I was completely alone. Especially in a rusty bathtub no better than any of those at the sleazy hotels we stayed at, so tiny that I couldn't even stretch my legs out all the way.

I sighed and slid further down into the water, leaning back against the ice cold metal of the ancient claw-foot, staring up at the ceiling shrouded in the dim glow of the candle, eyes following the edges of yellow water stains and crumbling plaster, just listening to the water as it lapped gently against the side of the tub.

For a moment I just breathed, taking in the moment of silence like it was pure gold after days of hearing nothing but the crystal clear playbacks of those past few weeks, and the hustle and bustle of Sam as he did whatever it was all night that forced me to surface from nightmares and lose even more sleep, as well as Cas's constant angry drifting through the halls and not-so-subtle job of ignoring me. It was like sitting in the eye of a hurricane, the bathroom door the only thing separating me from the roaring winds of the outside world. After being cooped up in the same room, in the same car, for days on end, it was nice to finally be alone for what felt like a breath of slightly less smoggy air in world where you couldn't see a foot in front of you for all the poisoned smoke clogging your vision.

I closed my eyes, dreading having to get out of the already cold water, having to play another game of dry-yourself-off-before-you-get-hypothermia, having to again don the million layers of clothes just to keep myself alive, having to go start preparing breakfast when I should have done it an hour ago, having to go through another day of being avoided by Cas and watching Sam try to scratch his brains out while having no way to solve the problem. Having to go back out there to face the real world once again.

And I could have laid there forever, staring at the backs of my eyelids and pitying my life when I was the one who made it this way, but I heard Haleigh calling out for me, having finally woken up from her most peaceful night of sleep in a big dark building all alone when there should been someone there watching her. When I should have been watching her.

So I stood up from the bath, shivering in the frigid air as I grabbed a towel and stepped out, telling Haleigh I would be right there.

* * *

"Why don't you make the food in the big oven like Mommy does?"

I looked back at Haleigh with the ghost of a smile on my lips, continuing to turn the deer meat on the makeshift spit propped over the fire.

"It's broken. Everything broke when the lights went out."

"Why?" She sat in a mound of blankets, knees pulled up to her chin, wide curious eyes reflecting the golden glow of the fire.

"Things need power to work. The power comes from the sun, and when the dark clouds covered up the sun, all the stuff couldn't get any power."

"How does the sunlight go to the lights on the roof?"

"It goes through wires that connect to the lights and other machines. You know the powers lines that run along the road?"

She nodded.

"They go all over the country, all connecting to a big wire that leads straight to the sun." I grinned at her, remembering the crazy things I used to say to Sam as a kid to answer all of his silly questions.

She sat for a moment, twisting her hair around her uncoordinated fingers while she mulled my words over.

"Why don't you have a bedroom?"

I timidly looked away from her doe-eyed stare and turned back to the fire, unprepared for the sudden change of subject. That's kids, I guess.

"I do. It's back there," I said, twisting my arm to point behind me to the hallway that held my room, so empty and abandoned with no soul inhabiting it.

"Why don't you sleep there?"

"It's too cold." I deadpanned, not caring to sugarcoat it with any fun fairytales or sweet little bedtime stories.

She went back to playing with her hair, head bowed over her knees so the light carved deep shadows into her hollowed eye sockets, the deep valleys under her cheekbones.

Suddenly I just couldn't look at her anymore, shifting my gaze to the empty room behind her, eyes drifting over the unoccupied chairs littered around the desolate table, so full of scattered books and papers, but still as barren as the vastest desert. I couldn't help but stare at the abandoned pile of blankets in front of the other fireplace just a few feet away, a hole burning in my stomach at Sam's prolonged absence. He was gone before I woke up, no telling how long exactly, the only thing entailing his whereabouts was that the axe and one of the shotguns were gone from their place by the front door. I could only guess that he had gone out to chop more wood and do some hunting, but the voice in the back of my mind liked to convince me otherwise. But I couldn't do anything about it. I was stuck. With Cas MIA, I was the only one to watch Haleigh, and he wasn't answering any of my prayers, so I was well and truly trapped. I just had sit on my ass and wait.

But I was done with that.

I stood up, stretching out an offering hand to Haleigh as she looked up at me like I was the Jolly Green Giant.

"Come on."

She stared at my hand for a moment, lips pursed as she considered my proposal with such caution that a six year old just shouldn't have. After a few beats, she finally reached out a tiny hand to grasp two of my fingers, standing up from her mountain of blankets, and began to walk with me.

* * *

I watched as she took in my room with wide eyes and wandering fingers, tugging at my desk drawers, spinning the broken knobs on my dresser, patting my bare mattress and giggling at the imprints of her hands left on the surface. I slid my hands into my pockets and leaned against the wall as she lifted herself up onto my bed, jumping up and down on it and rolling around trying to make "snow angels". She had the biggest grin on her face the whole time and I couldn't help but manage a smile back at her laughter that sounded like sunshine and her rosy cheeks that reminded me of better, warmer days.

She flopped back down on the bed one last time, arms and legs spread out, her head hanging over edge so that she was looking at me upside down.

"So this is your room?" she asked, hair falling to brush along the floor as she spoke.

"Yeah."

"Well, it's pretty boring."

I chuckled, looking over the rough brick walls only containing the empty hooks where my guns used to be displayed proudly, and the single bookshelf holding all of about five books. My eyes fell to the barren floor, toeing the splintered edge of the old dresser dismally in an attempt to distract myself from the hollowed feeling of the room, like a deep and dark cave, walls so thick they felt like they might cave in at any second and crush us both.

"My room is pink and purple. I have a big princess bed with pink curtains on it and my blanket has Sleeping Beauty on it. My Daddy built a pretty dollhouse for me that looks like a mansion and I play with my Barbies there. And my closet has a bunch of cubbies for all of my toys and my clothes and my shoes and my Mommy painted pretty flowers on my ceiling so I can look up at them when I go to sleep."

She was babbling. She traced out her room in the air as she talked, drawing invisible flowers on my ceiling as my heart clenched in my chest at the mention of her parents.

"That sounds nice," I grimaced.

She rolled over, setting her chin in her hands. "What about your Mommy and Daddy? Did you and Sammy get lost when the lights when out too?"

I looked away from her again, feeling my eyes start to burn. The room felt so cold. I stared into the candle, gripping the back of my desk chair in a vain attempt to find the words to for an answer. My gaze drifted over the faded grain of the desktop, following the flow over the crumbling bricks and landing on the lonely pictures taped up onto the wall above my lamp. I sniffled and force a weary smile, standing up and walking to the bed.

"Come here," I said once again, holding my arms out in invitation. I was surprised when she jumped into my arms, automatically wrapping her legs around my waist and throwing her arms around my neck, melting into my side like she was meant to be there and never wished to leave.

I awkwardly placed a hand on her back, being unable to place the sudden warm feeling in my chest or stop my cheeks from growing red as she burrowed her face into my shoulder.

Back at the desk, I brought the candle closer to the pictures, making them glow in the flickering orange light.

I pointed to the picture of the four of us at the old house, creased and torn from years of living tucked in pants pockets and the backs of wallets.

"That's my Dad." Haleigh's head popped up from my shoulder to lean in and observe the picture. "That's my Mom."

"She's really pretty," she whispered, reaching out to gently press her fingers to Mom's face.

"She's the most beautiful woman on Earth," I croaked, swallowing back tears, staring at her smiling face lost in time, gone for so many years that I can barely remember what she was like outside of the small snapshots that are all I have left.

"Who's that?" She pointed to the chubby toddler with a messy bowl cut held in John's arms.

"That's me."

"Really?" she ask, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, I was just a few years younger than you. Sammy was just a baby." I placed my pointer finger right below his head. "I remember he stared bawling right after this picture was taken. Mom wanted to take another, but she couldn't calm him down. She used to joke that she wished he was more like me as a baby. He cried so much. I just thought he was sad all the time. I always tried to cheer him up by making funny faces at him, but it only ever made him cry more." The smile pulling at my cheeks was painful. I wanted to laugh, wanted to sit and sigh about good times long past and talk about my favorite memories. But it hurt. It sent a cold spike through my chest that twisted tightly and took all happiness with it. It left a deep pit in my heart that couldn't heal over and only grew wider the more days passed and the more memories faded away into nothingness.

"Sammy's a giant! He can't have been that little!"

I was still staring at my mother. I could barely hear Haleigh's words.

"Yeah, he's quite the sasquatch."

* * *

"Okay, on three. One. Two. Three, push!"

Haleigh pushed the back of the mattress as hard as she could, unbeknownst to the fact that I was carrying the entire weight of the thing myself, jumping with excitement as the mattress moved forward without a hitch. She had insisted that I bring it into the library so she could jump on it in front of the fireplace, but I was more relieved to have something to sleep on other than lumpy couch cushions and flat pillows. I hoped it still remembered me.

The mattress collapsed to the floor in front of the mantle with a loud _fwomp!._ Haleigh dove onto it and rolled to a stop beside the fire, giggling and kicking her feet in the air, letting them fall and bounce off the foam surface.

I pulled the deer away from the fire where I had left it warming and yanked off a chunk, handing it Haleigh. She nibbled at it contently, silently watching the fire as I pulled off a piece for myself, reclining onto the other side of the bed with a groan. It felt like heaven on my sore back and I couldn't help but let out a long serene sigh. Haleigh mimicked me with a grin, deer meat stuck in her crooked teeth. I smiled and turned to gaze at the ceiling, letting the smile fade from my cheeks as I thought about the day. Yeah, Cas was MIA, Sam had disappeared for the hundredth time that week and was still showing signs of something being off about him, we were running out of food, and the end of the world was coming and we had no way to stop it, but when I looked back to see Haleigh still smiling at me, none of that mattered anymore.

* * *

 **I hate this chapter.**

 **I hate this chapter and I'm sorry if it is really shitty. It's just a simple filler chapter but it took me so long to write. I never thought that making Dean interact with a six year old girl would be so damn difficult. I was actually excited for this chapter. I came up with all these cute little scenes and everything, but when it came to writing them out, it was like trying to write an essay on the physics of Donald Trump's hair. I could have had this chapter done weeks ago, but I got so helplessly stuck that I almost moved on from this story altogether.**

 **So, yeah, sorry for updating really late again. I just hope the next few chapters won't be so hard to write.**

 **Also, I have a Wattpad! (Well, I had one before, but I deleted it and made a new one). Right now all have on there is a compilation of all my poems and short stories, which is mostly made up of ths poems from this story, but there are a few never before seen works on there, so you can go check it out MickeyBrave7676 if you are interested in my poetry. I am also currently writing a book that I will be posting on there once I finally finish writing the first chapter (which could be forever), but if you are interested you can follow me on there so you can be updated when I publish it.**

 **As always, remember that reviews are like catchy songs. They make you really happy and get stuck in your head all day.**


	11. Nothing Gold Can Stay

_**.**_

 _ **Nature's first green is gold,**_  
 _ **Her hardest hue to hold.**_  
 _ **Her early leaf's a flower;**_  
 _ **But only so an hour.**_  
 _ **Then leaf subsides to leaf.**_  
 _ **So Eden sank to grief,**_  
 _ **So dawn goes down to day.**_  
 _ **Nothing gold can stay.**_

 ** _~Robert Frost_**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 11- Nothing Gold Can Stay_**

It was 10:04pm when Sam finally returned.

I was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire with Haleigh sound asleep in my lap, clutching my watch tightly in my hands when the door slammed open. Sam was there, clomping down the stairs with a rifle slung over his shoulder, and I was about to heave a sigh of relief before I saw the stone cold expression on his face and the blood smeared on his clothes.

Haleigh was already awake, cowering slightly under her covers, her head sliding off of my knee as I jumped up, running to Sam's side, asking what happened. He didn't even look over at me when he huffed out "Bear," tossing the gun on the table, knocking a book onto the floor with a loud thump!, striding off into the bathroom without a second glance.

The watch fell from my hand, cracking on the floor as he slammed to door shut. It had been four and a half hours since I found it, desperate for any kind of solace on his whereabouts, digging it from a dresser drawer where I had shoved it and hoped to forget about it long ago. That was the first time I had looked at the time in months. Nine months, to be exact. Nine months and thirteen days since the beginning of the end. Nine months and thirteen days since I released the Darkness and unleashed an unrelenting apocalypse. Nine months and thirteen days since the world turned off and plunged us into a never ending nightmare. Nine months and thirteen days since I finally began to lose hope.

I threw the watch in the fire after that and watched it burn.

* * *

Sam walked out of the bathroom a new man. I sat at the library table for the hour he was in there, just waiting. He stepped out like he was never gone in the first place. No blood, no bitch face, no scratching. Nothing. Nothing but normal 'ol Sam.

Maybe I was the one going crazy.

He furrowed his brow at me when he saw me staring, strolling around to the other side of the table and taking a cautious seat.

"What?" He asked with a tilt of his head, his voice low so not to wake up a sleeping Haleigh just a few feet away.

I finally looked away, face growing warm at my needless worry. Helicopter parent much? Sighing, I pressed my fingers into my eyes, shoulders slumping. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was like how scientists said people went insane when they weren't exposed to the sun's daily cycle. Maybe it was the Darkness sickness finally taking me over and slowly dissolving my brain as we spoke.

"Nothing. Just tired." I kept my eyes closed, shaking my head minutely.

"Where's Cas? Still off brooding?"

I looked up to see him looking at me with barely masked concern. I couldn't help but notice the way his thin fingers twitched unnervingly as he knotted them together on top of the table. I thought I saw blood crusted under his fingernails. My pounding headache told me otherwise. Maybe I really was sick.

"Uh, yeah, I guess he is."

"Man, you really need to go find him. Call out to him or something. Say sorry at least. We need him back here." There was a pause as I let out a sigh. He looked down at his hands sympathetically. "I know you don't agree with him, but you really just have to let him be. He just needs something to hope-"

I shoved back my chair and stood up. "Yeah, man, I know. Blah blah blah first Amendment rights blah blah freedom of religion. Grade school stuff." My hands found their way to a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler before I had even realized where my feet had led me. The cold glass was bitter on my bare fingers, the sound of the bottle chinking against the other bottles as I set it down a break to the silence as Sam took his turn to sigh. I could feel his worried stare burning into the back of my head. Maybe he was just as paranoid as I was. Maybe we were all going crazy.

"Dean, you just need to say sorry. There's no need to fight over this kind of stuff at a time like this. What we do need is to work together to find a solution to the problem."

God, it was the middle of the apocalypse and Sam still had to be the reasonable one.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I don't need you being my shrink during the damn end of the world." I took a drink, staring into the fireplace at the end of the table. "I'll call him some other time."

Silence engulfed the room again, and I could hear the snapping of the firewood and Haleigh's light snores. I downed the rest of the whisky in one gulp and placed the glass down on the table, turning around to say something else, but I stopped when could have sworn I saw Sam's whole face twitch. It looked like some grotesque opera mask, so quick that I could have just imagined it, but it was the confused look he gave me afterward that made my stomach drop, like it had never happened.

"What?" He asked again, eyebrows furrowing and eyes narrowing.

"Oh, uh, did you find some dinner for us out there?"

His head cocked to the side, a frown forming on his forehead. "Uh, no. I didn't find anything. I told you."

I leaned on the table, beginning to feel slightly lightheaded. "Dude, you were covered in blood. All you said was 'Bear' before you hid in the bathroom for a hour."

"Dean, I don't know what you're talking about-"

It was at that moment that Haleigh snapped up from the mattress screaming at the top her lungs.

* * *

I hefted the bag over my shoulder, shot gun tucked under my arm, and shut the door behind me. A sigh of relief slipped past my lips as I peered apprehensively into the black pit that dropped sharply off the edge of the front stoop. With the flip of a switch my path was lit with a ring of yellowed light, highlighting the never-ending desert that laid beyond our front doorstep. My boots scraped along the ground, kicking up puffs of dirt, the knives in my backpack rattling with each hurried step.

I had to get out.

I had to get out of there. I had to get away from the twitching and the screaming and the scratching. I had to get away from the voices and the footsteps and the shadows. I had to get away from the looks and the worry and the blood. I needed to be alone.

The moment I got past the tree line I collapsed to the ground.

Knees smashing into a tree root, I shed all of my gear, hands shaking uncontrollably as I ran them down my face, letting out a choked sob.

"Cas, please. Please come back. We need you." I fell back against the tree, burning eyes turning to the sky, blocked by gnarled tree branches and crawling shadows. I couldn't help but remember the perverting touch of the sunlight on my fingers that day so many months ago, the ethereal halo of perfectly blue sky swept away by a madness once so inhumane, that now was left prickling under my skin like crawling bugs, wishing to be released. I couldn't help but wish for that warmth back, fingertips still feeling heavy with its kiss. I blinked up at the black sky peeking through skeletal branches, tears swelling in the corners of my eyes, just wishing that I could look up and see the sun one last time, one last time before everything came crashing down in a cacophony of silence and the dust settled to reveal nothing left but the Darkness and the world it created.

A single tear escaped and slid quietly down my cheek. "God, please help us."

* * *

My hands were empty and weary with fatigue as I stomped up the steps. Nothing was to be found in the woods. Everything had withered and died long ago, the Darkness weaving its poison into the earth and starving every living thing around. It wasn't long until we would end up with the same fate.

My whole body felt heavy. My eyelids weren't even strong enough to fight the pull, leaving me blindly fumbling my way to the door, feet dragging along the ground, arms feeling full of lead as I fingered the doorknob, struggling to turn it. I was so ready to just pass out but I knew there was no chance of sleep. My stomach roared as I finally pushed the door open, stomach cramping to the point where I couldn't stand up straight. No food to starve off sleep, no sleep to starve off hunger. Hopes of making it through each new night were dwindling fast.

I set my gear down by the door, guilt growing deeper the farther I made my way into the bunker. Haleigh was hungry. I had been giving all my food to her to discourage that. But now we were left with no food at all and I was running out of options.

I was halfway down the steps when I had to stop and listen. I could had sworn I heard something over the clanking of my shoes on the rattling stairs. When I paused, I was sure of it. Something shrill and grating. Something muffled and far away but coming closer and closer until it was ringing in my ears at full blast and I was bounding down the steps because my daze had cleared and I had finally realized what was going on.

I clamored on hands and knees to the edge of the table, mind racing with possibilities as I discovered Haleigh cowering under the table between a cluster of scattered chairs, red faced and screaming at the top of her lungs.

It was absolute hysterics. I was calling out her name and she was screaming louder and louder. I was reaching out for her and she was crawling farther away. I was dragging her from under the table and wrapping her in my arms and she was kicking and clawing at me desperately. She was already out of my grasp and fleeing for the kitchen before I realized what I had done, kneeling in the middle of the library with my dirty palms turned up in my lap, utterly broken.

It wasn't until I heard a loud crash did I finally scrape up all my pieces hurriedly and bolt towards the back of the bunker.

Haleigh's cries grew quieter as I made my way blindly through the labyrinthine hallways, speeding around corners and tripping over rug ends with each panicked breath.

With each door I passed, the deep feeling of dread in my stomach grew heavier, heart beating harder and feet only moving faster as I searched for the source of the noise. The slam of doors on walls rang throughout the bunker as I plunged deeper and deeper into the cold extremities of our home. Each room turned up so empty but so full to the brim with shadows and silence. No sign of the noise that had set my heart beating in my ears like a drum roll leading to the big reveal. No relief for the scream that was building up to a crescendo in my chest, ready to bust right through my ribs. No stopping to the voice in my head telling me this was the time I finally wouldn't be able to pick up all the pieces and glue them back together again.

I ran. I ran until couldn't anymore and stumbled onto my hands and knees and fell to the ground grasping my head in a fit of hysteria rocking back and forth until the silence finally caught up with me and clamped its icy hand over my mouth, smothering me with its unfathomable weight as it steamrolled over me.

And I laid there on the musty oriental rug, face pressed into its frayed edges as sticky tears danced their way across my cheeks and down my nose; chest heaving with muffled sobs as I listened to Haleigh's distant screams echoing through the halls and just begged for everything to end. End so I could finally escape this cage with its walls covered in blood and sharp spikes made of maddening screams. End so I could finally break free from the heavy chains of Darkness and fly away free into the light.

In that moment, I truly felt that that was the end. As I closed my eyes, I prayed and prayed to any soul that could hear me to let me pass on, to let me move on into the light, to hopefully live in the heaven I had seen with my own eyes, so warm and welcoming, full of all those I had outlived, who I had let die, who deserved heaven far more than my sinful ass ever would. I could feel the world fading, nose pressed to the floor and mouth spitting hysterical prayers to a nonexistent saviour. The pain in my body slowly dulled, Haleigh's screams sounding more and more distant. The peace that overcame me was a calm I hadn't felt in years, something I had completely forgotten about in the manic months following the release of the darkness. I felt warm.

I knew I was someplace better.

That's why, when I opened my eyes, I expected to see a bright light, like they described in the movies, something I had never experienced myself, but always dreamed about.

All I saw was the dark outline of the door across the hall.

. . .And the golden light of a candle crawling out from underneath.

All prayers were forgotten. Before I knew it, I was opening the door, and everything came bleeding back.

I stood still next to the candle, having fallen and rolled in front of the door. The flame was just centimeters away from the toe of my boot. Haleigh's screams were louder than ever. They pierced the deafening silence and left my ears ringing like cold found its way back under my clothes and traced its fingers down my spine, making me shiver as I fell to the ground once again, scrambling on hands and knees through the puddles of blood, releasing the breath I had been holding in disbelief in a wracking sob as I made my way towards the contorted form of Sam hiding in the corner.

When I put my hand on his shoulder, he didn't even flinch. When I shook it weakly, he never took notice. He was trembling, mumbling under his breath something I couldn't understand. His head was pressed into the corner, clothes covered in blood, so much blood. I could barely see through the tears as I screamed his name, inaudible, hands clamping around his tensed arm with all the strength I could muster, swinging him around to face me.

He didn't even look up at me. He was too focused the bloody horror that was his forearms held before him.

If I had had any food in my stomach I would have thrown up right there.

For a moment I was too stunned to do anything. Eyes stuck on the sight of his hands gloved in red, fingers digging into the gaping wounds from elbow to wrist, blood flowing like rivers, chunks of muscle and tissue gone, leaving holes in his skin too deep to see into in the dim light.

"Sam. . ." was all I could say as I reached forward to pull his fingers out of his arm.

The moment my fingers wrapped around his, I was thrown backward. My head slammed against a metal shelf hidden in the shadows, and I watched in horror as Sam rose up from the darkness, shaking madly as he bared his dripping fists at his sides, staring down at me with a ravaged look, eyes so dilated that there was nothing left but black.

"No, Dean." His voice was a hoarse whisper, like he had been screaming for hours. "Bugs. The bugs. I have to get the bugs out. They are crawling around in my skin, Dean. I have to get them out." He tumbled to his knees in front of me, hands clamping around my collar and yanking me forward so we were nose to nose.

"I can feel them in my brain, Dean." His quivering voice thickened, eyes glistening. "I have to get them out."

I had never seen anything more terrifying in my life. Bloodshot eyes so wide I swear they would have fallen out of his head if he leaned forward another inch. Spit dribbling from the corners of his babbling mouth, lips and eyebrows twitching uncontrollably as if he was unable to settle on one expression, cheeks speckled with blood like freckles. Voice moving up and down like a seesaw in an earthquake. Fingers on my neck so wet and warm; I could feel his blood dripping slowly down my back. Completely insane.

He gave me a hard shake. "I can't get them out, Dean!" he sobbed. His eyes finally broke contact with mine as he looked sorrowfully down at his arms. "They itch so much. I can't get them out."

"Sam-"

I was thrown against the shelf again.

"No! No, Dean! You don't understand!" He stumbled to his feet, swaying and chest heaving. "I have to get them out!" He bared his arms at me, blood steadily dripping onto the cold tile. His voice broke as he spoke again, face crumbling. "I have to."

Head spinning, I put my hands out in defense, noticing the blood smeared on them as I took a deep breath to quell my anxious nerves. "Sam, it's okay."

He shook his head minutely, rocking back and forth on his feet, fingers finding their way to his forearms once again.

"Sam, stop. Everything will be okay. Just calm down-" I was stopped in my attempt to stand up by large hands plowing me down again, sending me tumbling into another shelf, bringing it down with me.

"No!" I heard over the crash of the shelf as it toppled on top of me. "NO!" He was almost screeching now. "GET THEM OUT! GET THEM OUT! GET THEM OUT-"

Feeling my ankle crack as I dragged myself out from under the shelf, I stumbled up and charged forward, decking him in the jaw, sending him plummeting to the ground like a fallen skyscraper, landing with a sickening thunk!

Not a moment later I was right next to him, collapsing to my knees with one last heave, my probably twisted broken unable to hold my weary body up any longer. I gathered his limp body up into my arms, grasping his ravaged wrists in my hands, unable to look away, unable to move to do anything else.

And as I held him in my arms, I didn't cry. I didn't call out for Cas to come save us. I didn't go get the first aid kit and attempt to sew up what was left of his arms. I didn't go search through the bunker and find Haleigh. I didn't get a mop and start cleaning up the mess.

I just looked up to the ceiling, gently brushing the hair back from Sam's forehead.

"God, I hope you're happy."

* * *

 **Hello again everybody! I don't even know how long it has been since I last updated. You know how I said I would update more unless I let my life fall apart? Well guess what I did? Yep, you guessed right. I let my life break into a million pieces and fall through my fingers, and then I just stood and stared at them on the ground for a while until yesterday when I realized what a piece of shit I was being and finally picked them up. I am going to be writing more often, hopefully, if I don't go spiraling into numb madness once again. Hopefully next year will be better, with the new Star Wars movie and the third season of Young Justice.**

 **I actually like the way this chapter turned out. I told you it was going to get worse. I just hope you all don't freak out if I tell you its going to get EVEN WORSE. Yep. Better prepare yourselves, because this shitshow is about to get a whole lot shitter.**

 **Remember that reviews are like memes. I don't really understand what they are but I appreciate them because they make my life a whole lot better.**


	12. American Pie

_**.**_

 _ **Bye, bye Miss American Pie**_  
 _ **Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry**_  
 _ **Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n' Rye**_  
 _ **Singin' this'll be the day that I die**_  
 _ **This'll be the day that I die**_

 ** _~American Pie,_** _ **Don McLean**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 12- American Pie**_

Sam was lying peacefully wrapped in a tight cocoon of blankets on my mattress swathed the warmth of the snapping fire, eyes pressed closed and body so still that at first I doubted he was actually still alive. Bandages covered the wounds on his arms, no amount of stitches able to close up the gouges.

It took so long to stop the bleeding.

I was sure he was going to die. Only when the flow of blood finally stemmed did I let him fall limp on the floor with a sigh of relief, sat in the middle of puddle of blood so large I couldn't see the edges of it in the dark, clothes so thoroughly soaked through that I wasn't sure I would ever feel clean again.

Haleigh had closed herself up in one of the kitchen cabinets, holed up crying for hours as I desperately worked to save Sam's life. I had given up on trying to coax her out, considering after I had dragged Sam back into the library and located the source of her muffled sobs I had only scared her more when I opened the cabinet covered head to toe in blood. She had screamed at the top of her lungs and slammed the door shut again, and I hadn't made an another attempt to get her out after that.

She was silent now. I sat perched on the edge of a chair in front of the mattress, watching over Sam numbly with a bottle of whiskey clutched in my fist. It was already almost empty. I had lost count of the hours a long time ago. I was still as a statue, as heavy as a statue, slumped in that chair for what felt like forever, watching the rise and fall of the mound of blankets were Sam lay, just waiting for something to happen. But nothing did.

That is, until Cas materialized at the bottom of the stairs.

The world stopped moving for a moment as I took him in incredulously, convinced that he was just a hallucination brought on by. . . whatever this was. We just stared at each other, almost indifferently, as if we were just passing strangers. But as my mind cleared of its booze haze, something in me just snapped, and I was up and barreling at him in an instant.

"Where the fuck were you?" My bottle had shattered on the ground next to the chair. Haleigh's cries started up once again like a warning siren. My fists curled into Cas's collar as I slammed him into a pillar, spitting furiously into his face.

"Where were you?" I growled, staring into his strained eyes as he looked back and forth between mine with a furrowed brow.

I slammed him into the pillar again, harder this time. "Tell me where the fuck you were!"

"I was getting food." His voice was unnervingly level as both of our gazes moved down to the duffel bag clasped in his hand, my eyes glued to it as it slid to the ground, the sound of cans clunking on the cool tiles making my stomach cramp.

"Now, Sam is hurt. May I tend to him?" His voice was cautious, slightly condescending, as if he was talking to a deaf bear instead of his best friend.

Slightly stunned, still heavily buzzed, I let go of him, watching him as he slipped by and made his brisk way towards Sam, making the effort to turn a cold shoulder towards me.

"You should have been here," I slurred, stabbing a finger at the ground, "You should have come when we needed you."

"I'm here now."

"It's been hours! He was going insane! I had to knock him out just to stop him from picking his brains out."

There was a pause. I held my breath as he turned around, the fire half-casting his face in shadow as he finally met my eyes with a heavy sigh.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I'm sorry to leave you here alone so often." He turned back to face Sam again, picking up one of his arms and beginning to unravel the bandages. "I have mainly been searching for food and supplies, but I have also been attempting to study the Darkness."

I grimaced as he pulled off the bandage to reveal the still tender wound on Sam's arm, running his fingers along the edges, holding it closer to his face to see in the pale light of the fire.

"Have you found anything?"

He placed the arm down, slim fingers moving to Sam's face, grasping his chin and moving his head back and forth. "Have you observed any of the black substance seeping from his ears or nose?"

"What? Are you saying this is the Darkness sickness?"

He pressed his lips together, eyes darting away from my pensive gaze. My heart began to beat in my throat.

"From what I have taken in from my numerous observations of those infected, it seems that a common side effect is something akin to the 'meth bug'."

"The what bug?"

"Repetitive users of methamphetamines will often experience visual and sensory hallucinations of insects crawling inside of them, and will usually respond by physically attempting to remove them by whatever means necessary."

The words only made my head spin, but something else entirely was the cause of my knees feeling too weak to hold my weight. I stumbled backward into my chair, nearly slipping on the whiskey-slicked ground, hands tightly gripping the arms as I leaned forward, stomach ready to turn inside out.

"No."

"I have to say, Sam has shown no signs of the illness up until now, considering his first contact with it was months ago-"

"No."

His face pinched as his sentence stopped abruptly, hands freezing in their effort to unwrap Sam's other arm. "What?"

"No. Sammy's not infected."

He went still for a moment, head tilting to the side as he finally looked me over completely, eyes running from head to toe in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Why do you think that?"

I breathed in and out slowly, eyes locked on him and him only.

"He's not infected because he can't be infected."

"Dean, he has been exposed to the virus multiple times, there is no way-"

"HE'S NOT INFECTED!" I could feel the red rise in my face, feel the rage burn in my throat, the energy of it making me want to jump from my seat and fight him over it. But the look of horror in his eyes made something snap deep inside me, something that twisted my stomach in knots and my skin go cold at the realization.

When he looked away, I threw myself out of the chair, all fight drained from me.

"Come on, heal him already," I snapped, eyes burning. I strode to the door in hopes of hiding away in my room to get away from all this insanity, to get away from my insanity, to maybe hide away for all of eternity and wait for this to mull over.

"And get Haleigh while you're at it." I couldn't hide the thickness in my voice, quickening my pace in hopes of getting to my room before everything fell apart and I was left to deal with it all.

Too bad I passed out cold halfway down the hall.

* * *

I rose from a numb and voidless sleep to a feeling of warmth that seeped through my pores and wrapped its way around my bones. I opened my bleary eyes to a blurred haze that took a few confused blinks to clear. I felt heavy, like I had been dropped in a pool of warm syrup that slowed my movements and smothered my fuddled mind. I couldn't surface. Suddenly I felt as if I was drowning, helplessly fumbling for air, but getting nowhere fast, lungs filling with a viscous fluid that only pulled me down farther.

"Dean."

A hand was dragging me from the mist, the room was growing brighter, the voice coming closer.

"Dean, come on, get up."

Air filled my lungs like sweet luxury. I was blinking up at the unearthly view of Sam looming over me ominously. He smiled grimly as a can was pressed into my peripheral.

"Come on, Dean, you need to eat. Cas can't heal hunger."

The can was urged into my hand, a hard grip on my shoulder forcing me to sit up. My pounding head spun nauseatingly, stomach cramping painfully at the thought of food. But suddenly, all I could see was the watery beans sitting pitifully at the bottom of the can, a spoon poking out from the mix. For a moment, I was sure I was still caught in a dream, but as I scooped a spoonful into my mouth and almost cried at the wonderful taste, I could have cared less if I was hallucinating or not. I was already halfway through the can when Sam placed his fingers on my shoulder, pushing me back into reality.

"Now, don't eat too much or you'll get sick." His voice was quiet, gentle like a coddling nurse to a sick child. His eyes never left me, drifting wistfully from my hands to my face in a way that made the food sit like a rock in my stomach. He looked fine, better than usual actually. Skin a little less transparent, eyes a little less sunken, cheeks a little less hollow. No bandages were peeking out from under his sleeves, no blood staining his clothes. That unnerving smile never seemed to leave his face.

"Did Cas fix you up?" I asked from behind the can, spoon handle biting into my fingers.

"Oh, yeah. He spruced me right up. Like nothing even happened."

The can of beans no longer seemed very appetizing.

"What about Haleigh?"

He only gestured behind me to the fire, where she lay on my mattress curled up in Castiel's coat, sleeping soundly.

I turned back to him slowly, setting the can down beside me lightly, not breaking eye contact.

"Where's Cas?"

"Oh, he's just sorting our supplies in the kitchen," he threw a flippant hand over his shoulder, lips pressing together in a firm and assuring smile. Everything was just fine.

If I hadn't known all the demons were gone, I would think he was possessed.

"So, why don't you go back to sleep and try to rest up? You need break after everything that has happened."

The last thing I remember was that sickening grin before everything went black.

I woke up hours later to find Sam snoozing like a rock on my mattress with Haliegh curled up by his side. When I confronted Cas about what had happened he only shook his head in confusion, telling me Sam had been out cold since the moment I knocked him out days before.

* * *

Sam recuperated slowly.

It took him two days to wake up.

Cas could heal the wounds, but he couldn't replace all the lost blood.

He inhaled two cans of peas and half a Slim-Jim, only after making sure Haleigh had eaten first.

He couldn't leave the fireside. The blood loss gave him chills, made him weak. He stayed curled up by the crackling logs for three days, wishing to help with the work, but I wanted to make sure he was always in my sight.

On the fifth day after the incident, he sat at the table wrapped up in blankets reading a book. He didn't remember anything. He didn't remember the bugs, the screaming, the blood. He didn't remember waking up in the middle of the night and visiting my bedside smiling like he was completely fine. He didn't remember anything.

Cas was left pacing in the kitchen after it all, wondering how on Earth Sam had shown no symptoms of being infected but still had the breakdown in the storeroom, reverting back to normal once everything had settled. We had both been too scared to approach Sam on the subject.

It felt like a moment lost in time, an alternate universe that had never existed, a horrific nightmare that felt all too real. Even Haleigh seemed to have no recollection of the event, immediately attaching herself back to Sam's side once he woke up, no longer scared enough of him to go hiding in the kitchen cabinets and screaming for hours on end.

So I pretended like it never happened.

I never mentioned it again. I never questioned Sam about it, never brought up the subject, never spoke of the nightmares about it that haunted me each night when I went to sleep. I told Cas to never breath a word about any of it again, told him to act like it never happened. And with each passing day I became more and more convinced that I simply made it all up, hallucinated it, dreamed it all up in a sick and twisted nightmare. That I was the crazy one.

So when we ran out of food again a month later, I didn't hesitate to leave Sam to take care of Haleigh alone at the bunker while we went out scavenging.

* * *

 **I managed to update pretty soon this time! Well, mainly because this chapter is really short, but oh well. This is just filler anyways.**

 **Sorry that I stealing stuff to use as the headers for the chapters. I ran out of poems and I seriously can't think of any more to write. But I always thought the chorus of American Pie rang eerily close to home with Supernatural. I mean, Chevys? Pies? The comparisons can't be just a coincidence.**

 **Remember that reviews are like pie. You don't understand. I NEED PIE.**


	13. Arsonist's Lullaby

_**.**_

 _ **When I was a child, I heard voices**_  
 _ **Some would sing and some would scream**_  
 _ **You soon find you have few choices**_  
 _ **I learned the voices died with me**_

 _ **When I was 16, my senses fooled me**_  
 _ **Thought gasoline was on my clothes**_  
 _ **I knew that something would always rule me**_  
 _ **I knew the scent was mine alone**_

 _ **When I was a man I thought it ended**_  
 _ **When I knew love's perfect ache**_  
 _ **But my peace has always depended**_  
 _ **On all the ashes in my wake**_

 _ **All you have is your fire**_  
 _ **And the place you need to reach**_  
 _ **Don't you ever tame your demons**_  
 _ **But always keep 'em on a leash**_

 _ **~Hozier, Arsonist's Lullaby**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 13- Arsonist's Lullaby**_

I have never had a home my entire life.

Four years in a little doll house that we fled as it burned to ashes doesn't count. Four years living in the walls that would eventually hold my mother's grave did not count. Four years of blurry memories of warm blankets and crying babies and playing cars on carpets do not count. Four years of good do not drown out a lifetime of bad.

I didn't realize that people didn't usually live in two bed hotel rooms until I was seven watching sitcoms while getting Sammy to fall asleep in the murky hours waiting for Dad to get home. Home. I never thought about how flippantly I used the word until I realized that house and home did not have the same meaning. I remember in kinderganden when the kids would draw square red houses with little yellow suns in the top corners of their papers and I never understood because that wasn't how houses looked like. Houses were in long lines, stacked little boxes with beds and tvs inside, and bright flashing signs outside that made it hard to sleep at night.

I remember kids talking about how often they moved, making it a contest to see who had lived in the most houses, the most cities, the most states. I always won. But the other kids' awe would always die down quickly when I boasted that I moved almost every month, and then the questions would begin. They would talk about what their homes were like, describe their own rooms, the ones that held all their own belongings. They kept their things in dressers and closets, not duffle bags and the trunks of cars. They had parents that had their own bedroom to themselves, pet dogs, cats, rabbits, fish. They had playrooms where they kept all their toys, kitchens where parents made the food, not bought it. I was very young when I realized just how different I was.

Sammy found out young too, but he was much more vocal about it. It started with questions about Mom, where she was, why she was never there to sing him to sleep. Then he asked about the hotel rooms. Why they were so small, why they didn't have seperate rooms, why we always had to share a bed. Dad always brushed him off, mumbled an answer of 'You don't have a mom', or 'We always need to keep movin'', which was not the right thing to say to a young child, made obvious when Sam threw tantrums about how he wanted to live in a big fancy house with a mommy and a doggy just like all the other kids at school. And dad had to sit and listen to all of it because there was no bedroom to send Sam to for timeout.

My life was stuffed in suit cases and bags and shuffled between tred worn car seats and moldy hotel room corners. All of my possesions had to fit in one tattered duffle bag and the pokets of jackets and pants and coats. I never held any more to my name. I remember how Sam would collect rocks from muddy stretches by parking lots, wash them off in the dingy sinks, use my pocket knife to carve faces into them, name each one. He was so scared that Dad would find them, tell him to leave them behind. He hid them in his socks and shoes, shoved them between the cracks in the backseat of the car. I always thought that it was silly, childish, like having imaginary friends, but now I understand that that was all he had, all that he could call his other than some hand-me-down clothes that never fit him. I still found them in the seats years later, smiled at their dopey faces. I gave them back to him. He remembered all of their names, laughed at them until he cried and hid them away in that sacred memory box of his.

I came to call the car home. It was the closest thing to it. The thought kept me sane for a while, until I realized that it was just a hunk of metal on wheels that was as easily taken away from me as anything else in my life. That was when I came to the conclusion that a home needed a foundation, a base to build a life upon, something that couldn't come crumbling down with the lightest gust of wind. That was when I knew that I could never have that because everything got destroyed eventually, and my life was poisoned with a fire that burned everything I loved to dust.

But no four walls and concrete foundation can be called a home. No, I found that out when I lived with Lisa. You cannot force the word home onto a house, no matter how hard you try. God knows I sure did. Playing House is nothing more than a game, no matter how realistic your tea set looks or how good your imaginary tea tastes. I was simply a long-term geust, making Lisa's house no more than a fancy, expensive, lonely hotel.

The fantasy never lasted. Not until the Bunker. The Bunker, the library for the Men of Letters, our unconvensional rendevous point, our rest stop for research, our place to sit a just take a deep breath for once.

I didn't notice the way I settled in so easily. It was barely a week before I was stocking the fridge, a month when I had started sleeping in the same bed regularly. And when I started decorating my own room, I didn't even bat an eye. I was too fucking estatic about having my own room for the first time in more than thirty years. After a few months, I stopped holding my breath, stopped keeping all my most precious possesions in a bag by the door just in case, stopped waiting for the end that I believed to be inevitable. I felt safe for the first time that I could remember. I thought that it would last forever.

The first time I called the Bunker home, we were out on a hunt. Vampires, I think. We had just taken out a whole nest of them, Sam had a nasty bump on his head, and I had recieved a pretty big bite on my arm. I remember Sam patching me up, half-dazed, myself being half asleep from nights spent searching every corner for the nest, and as he finished, I slapped him on the shoulder, smiling blearily, and said "Let's go home, Sammy." And for once, I didn't correct myself.

The Bunker was the first place I felt that I belonged. Not just the fact that we were Men of Letters, but also that we were surrounded by what we had made our lives; we didn't have to disguise ourselves as civvies, didn't have to dress up, play pretend. We were in a place where we were considered normal. We were protected. There was no running from monsters anymore. We could sleep in our own beds each night and know that the was no chance of waking up dead. And I wasn't alone, for once. I had Sam, had Cas, sometimes. We were a family, and though we didn't have a conventional house or a dog named Spot, I still called it home.

That was why, when I pulled up to the bunker to see Sam standing there alone in the middle of the driveway, I knew that everything was wrong.

My heart beat eleven times in the space between the steering wheel and the door handle. I took seven panicked breaths before I was calling out his name at the top of my lungs. I blinked only twice before he smiled wide and lifted up his hand, revealing my old lighter I gave him so many years ago. My heart stopped beating for the ten miliseconds it took him to light it and for it to hit the ground.

And it was as if Heaven had crashed to the Earth below, Hell crawling up the sides of its crevas and sprouting anew on our ungodly soil. I was too slow, slower than the racing flames as they rolled across the pavement towards the bunker. Even as the world moved in slow motion, they ran like rockets, faster than light. And as I watched them move up the driveway, something grew in my chest, with each lethargic step forward, hotter and hotter, until it was scorching in my throat and falling from my mouth, a scream so loud I was sure the angels could hear it even through the barrier of Darkness, the demons in Hell below. So loud I could taste blood in my mouth as I barreled towards Sam, stood there with his arms open wide and teeth glinting in the light of the growing fire in a broad grin.

The garage exploded in a plume of fire as I drove my shoulder into his stomach. The cacophony rose around us as we fell to the ground, overpowering my raving howls like a wave crashing over a lone victim on a beach, louder than anything I could possibly imagine.

It sounded like the earth was collasping in on itself.

But I could have cared less. I was too busy pummeling Sam to all hell.

All I could see was his deranged smile as I punched him again and again and again an again. He was _la_ _ughing._ He was laughing the whole time, even as I broke his nose and cracked his jaw and knocked his teeth out. _L_ _aughing_. He didn't fight back. He didn't make a move to stop me, didn't try to push me off. He just laid there and took it. He laid there and took it and laughed like a maniac the whole fucking time.

I didn't stop. I didn't think I'd stop until he was dead. That is, until a sound rose above the chaos. A sound so shrill and clear above the dissonance that I instantly froze in my tracks, bloody fist raised raised mid-punch, breath caught in my chest in incredulity as the cold realization poured over me.

"Haliegh!" I was stumbling to my feet in an instant, drunkenly searching in the dark for the source of her screams, until my eyes fell upon the firey corpse of the bunker, flames alight in the windows as its insides were devoured by the blaze, plumes of black smoke tumbling into the dark sky. _Oh, God no_.

"Cas!" My voice was hoarse, throat sore. "Cas!" The air reeked of gasoline and burning wood, flames so hot they made me sweat through my clothes. Ash was raining from the sky like snow, embers kissing my skin and fizzling out in my hair as I stared helplessly up at the monstrous tongues of flame that licked at the the edges of our home without heed.

Sam writhed on the ground at my feet, cackling and spitting up blood. "He's gone!" he yelled. "He flew away. Little birdy flew away from you, Dean-"

I kicked him in the head to stop his laughter, and again just to finally knock him out. I wanted to throw up. The ground was swaying beneath my feet, vision blurring as blinked up at the inferno, Haliegh's screams only growing louder and more grating against my skull the longer I stood there, sedated by shock.

It took me a few moments to realize I was moving forward, feet unconsciously taking me step by step closer to the raging fire. I could feel down to my bones, waves of heat flowing over me, making my clothes feel suffocating, making it hard to take a breath. But after centuries of blistering cold, it felt like a trip to the sunny Bahamas. It felt like the shadow of sunlight on my fingertips from so many months ago that stayed stuck in my mind like glue and never seemed to escape my thoughts. It felt like heaven.

The front door was wide open and full of fire. I had to climb in through a shattered window and dodge whisping fingers of flame that scorched the hair off my scalp. My eyes burned in the torrid swelter, feeling as if all moisture had been evaporated from my body. I had to cover my nose and mouth with my sleeve to avoid breathing in the noxious fumes, blinking hard to clear the smoke from my eyes.

The library was of fire and brimstone.

Everything was dancing, swept up in the beat of the creaking and groaning of the bunker's downfall. Everything was glowing, brighter than the sun herself. It was something born from the tortured minds of God-fearing Renaissance artists, made from strokes of blood-stained and nightmare-soaked paint brushes, so hellish I could picture Satan himself at the center of it all.

Books were flapping from their shelves like pheonixes, wings of fire that carried them to the ground where they perished into ash. Tables were piles of charred wood, turning black like gangrene infected limbs and desentigrating. Bookshelves toppled like fallen trees, striking weakened pillars causing them to crumple and take chunks of the ceiling with them. Thick acrid smoke bubbled and churned overhead like storm clouds, fire roaring like thunder and debris pelting down like sleet. It was chaos in the holiest degree.

A scream sounded out among it all, and I was running.

I jumped over capsized bookshelves, skidded past curtains of flame, dove between burning chairs. "Haliegh!" I coughed out, hysterically whipping my head back and forth to search for her amongst the snapping fire. It was scorching hot, the air black with smoke. I could feel the soles of my boots melting into the floor as I stood there. There was no sign of her, and as each moment passed without a response from her, my worry only grew as the flames seemed to enclose around me, leaving no escape.

And just as I was about to gather the courage to take a leap of faith through the nearest pocket of fire, I was startled by a deafening growl, looking up only to watch as a support beam crashed through the ceiling and fell upon me, knocking me to the floor with an ear-splitting crash.

The pain was indescribable. The beam cracked on my head, shattering my skull and snapping my neck. As I depended towards the ground, it rolled onto my chest and settled there, crushing my ribs and puncturing my organs. I could feel everything. Because even after all that, I was still conscious as the fire engulfed me and burned the flesh off my bones and my brain leaked out of my fractured skull. I had to sit there and smell my cooking skin and feel the blood boil out of my veins. I had to watch as my arms and legs turned to ash and feel every molecule die in agony. And I couldn't do anything about it. Because God thought that I needed to suffer through every last second of my miserable existance.

But as my vision started to fade and the pain ebbed away slowly, a peace like no other settled over me. I was finally going to be free. I was finally going to be free from this Darkness, I was finally going to be able to pass on without leaving anything behind. Because everything I had ever know was dead, and soon I would be too.

And with my last breaths, I saw a brilliant blue light emerge from the flames and ashes, washing out the infernal red and replacing it with the warm embrace of relief. I closed my eyes for the last time as a pressure formed between my eyes, and I smiled, knowing-

I gasped a deep breath of crisp stinging air, eyes opening to see my hands on the wheel of the car, fire glinting in the rearview mirror and Sam unconcious in the back seat. Before I could even form a thought, the passenger door was swinging open and Cas was in the seat beside me looking at me with wide, disturbed eyes as he uttered one single word.

" _Drive_."

* * *

 **Okay, so I deleted and rewrote the end of this chapter and re-upload it because I was really disappointed at the lack of effort I put into it. So, I hope this is better, even though I had an equally hard time writing it, and I'm still not very satisfied with it, but, oh well, at least I tried my best. Hopefully this isn't too much of a downer for you all during your New Years Eve festives, if you are having any.**

 **Follow if you liked this chapter.**

 **Review if you hated it.**

 **Favorite if you are happy for this year to finally be over.**

 **1 like = 1 prayer for the lives of these boys**

 **1 share = 1 dead character brought back to life**

 **Hope you all have a good and prosperous 2017.**


	14. My Boy Builds Coffins

_**What most don't know is that the world is dangling on the end of a string.**_

 _ **It has been, since the first rays of sun kissed the skin of the earth.**_

 _ **The string used to be a sturdy rope, stronger than the strongest steel, more indestructible than diamonds.**_

 _ **But over the years, it has grown thinner, falling taught with the weight of humanity and their sins.**_

 _ **The burden has piled up higher than any mountain, crawled deeper than any ocean,**_

 _ **Tendrils stretching farther with each person brought into this world, encompassing every square inch until there is nothing left.**_

 _ **By today the string has worn down to the width of a hair.**_

 _ **Tomorrow it will break**_

* * *

 _ **Warning: Very vulgar language ahead**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 14- My Boy Builds Coffins**_

My father always taught me to kill monsters.

Saving people, hunting things. That was our business. My whole life, he burned the idea into my skin that it was my job to save the world. It took me so long to finally purge that toxic thought from my mind and accept that I couldn't save everyone, couldn't really save anyone, actually. It's kind of hard to find your place in the world when everyone dies in the end anyways. But eventually I realized that some of what my dad had taught me still rang true. Even if I couldn't save those already dead, I could protect their descendents from the creatures lurking in the dark, I could kill off every single one of their kind, I could wipe them out completely. I could save the future from the evils of our world. I could prevent another apocalypse from ever happening again. Monsters would one day become extinct and the world would finally be safe.

But now there was only one monster left, and it was lying unconscious in my back seat.

The world was dead. There was no one left to save.

I had floored it. The car turned so sharply that my head slammed against the window, wheels throwing up a wave of dust as they tried to gain traction. And I drove. I drove and I did nothing else. Because if I took my eyes off the road to glance at the growing pillar of flame in the rearview mirror, if I thought about the thing curled up on the upholstery behind me, if I let her screams fill the holes in my head, I would break. I would break and I would never be able to be fixed again. So I kept my eyes on the road. I went so numb I forgot to breath, and I drove.

Cas healed me. He brought me back from the brink of death, pieced me back together, built me anew with skin unscarred and pale and smooth, not charred by flame, not bloodied and bruised from trying to kill my brother with my own two fists.

He healed Sam too.

My eyes were attracted to the mirror like a magnet. The urge to look back and see the source of the golden glow that lit up the car interior was too strong. But my fear was stronger. I wasn't afraid of the fire. I was afraid of looking up to see Sam staring back at me.

I had no idea where we were going. Away, obviously. Just drive straight until you couldn't smell the smoke anymore. Push the accelerator until you can't hear the screams, until the world fades back to black and the silence settles back over the earth and everything is forgotten. Everything is gone.

* * *

"Dean?" Cas's voice was soft, so much smoother than the low growl it usually sat at in those days.

I glanced over at him in response. He was staring blankly out the front windshield, so still it was as if he had never made a sound.

I turned back to the road, careful to avoid a crate fallen across the faded yellow lines.

"It's so quiet." His voice was shaking. "Can you sing something, please?"

It was like the song was on the tip of my tongue, prepared for the moment. Without pause, I nodded and began singing, offbeat and off tune, the song my mother sang to me so many years ago, the song that lulled me into monster-free dreams and left a scar of warm nostalgia in my mind. And as I sang, Cas brought his head to his cupped hands, letting out a long, quivering sigh, and listened in silence.

And I sang until my voice went out.

* * *

I had no idea how long it had been. My hands had molded themselves to the steering wheel, having gripped it so tight for so long that I wasn't sure if I could ever remove them. I don't think that I blinked the entire time, not once slumping over in exhaustion, even after the fire had long disappeared from the rearview mirror. I don't think I can ever sleep again.

Cas hadn't spoken a word since he broke down so many hours before. He was frozen in place staring at the dashboard, but I could tell he wasn't there. He wasn't in the car with us. He was sucked so deep into the crevasses of his mind that I was scared I could never get him out. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

I jumped so far into the air when the engine let out a low cough that I hit my head on the ceiling. Dazed, I instinctively tried to pull over on the side of the road, scraping against the side of an 18-wheeler before swerving into the middle of the road and sputtering to a stop.

Frantically, heart in my throat, I turned the key in the ignition, pressing down on the gas, but the engine only rattled and choked, failing to turn over.

I probably would have sat there trying until the end of time or until my heart jumped out of my chest if Cas had not put his hand on mine, pulling it off the ignition and forcing me back into reality.

"The gas tank is empty." I could barely register his eyes on mine before his pointing hand directed my gaze to the fuel gauge, which was set pitifully on E.

It took me a few moments of heavy blinking and bated breathing to finally gain my bearings. It was dark. So dark. The fire was nothing more than a faint glow on the horizon, like the ring of sunlight around the moon during a solar eclipse, as if looking at it directly would leave you permanently blind.

Sam was still dead to the world. I was too afraid to look back, but I could tell by his shallow breaths. I kneaded my stiff hands on my thighs and stared out the window at the blank expanse that spread out before us, completely lost as to what to do next. I had been lost since day one, since we cracked open Pandora's box and let the Darkness out, but I always knew that if I could get through the next moment, then I could get through the next hour, then the next day. But now, I wasn't sure I could survive another breath of dead air, let alone the next hour. I had no idea what to do to stay alive anymore. Keep moving? Keep pushing forward? Where? Where was there to go? What was there to escape? What was the point of it all? Why were we still trying?

Cas, though, reserved, calm, all-knowing Cas, he seemed to know exactly that. He opened the door and stepped out with purpose, hands still shaking as he motioned for me to follow. I pushed open my door, heavy feet falling to the ground and hands going to my knees as I pushed back a wave of vertigo. He helped me up, dragged me out with a stern grip on my arm, slammed the door behind me. My vision tunneled as he ushered me forward, all I could see were his feet as mine fell out from under me, but he still seemed to hasten me along, panicked-like, almost. It was only when I looked back to see the slowly retreating form of the car did I realize what he was doing.

I stumbled to my knees as I attempted to release myself from his grip, but his hand was solid on my arm, painful almost, as he tried to yank me to my feet.

"Cas, stop," I slurred, holding up an affronting hand. My stomach was churning and I wasn't sure how much longer I could stay vertical, but I looked up at him all the same, and the terrified expression plastered on his face only made it all worse.

"Cas, please don't do this." I bit my lip to stop it from shaking as I once again looked back at the car, knowing my brother was still in there, tied up alone and cold and unconscious. I turned back to Cas, and his eyes were screaming, pleading desperately with me. "Cas, we can't leave him behind."

Looming over me like a lilting skyscraper, he shook his head, ever so slightly, lips pursed and eyebrows upturned hopelessly. "I cannot heal him. He cannot be saved."

"Don't say that!" I snapped through gritted teeth, pounding my fist against his knee. His grip on my arm slowly lessened until he deposited me on the ground, taking a step back. "We'll find a cure. There has to be one! Cas, we have to cure him!"

"Dean-"

"Goddammit, you son of a bitch, you can't just leave him!" I wobbled to my feet, bearing my fists at my sides. "You can't just run away when shit gets too shitty! You fucking dive in and fix things. You don't leave your brothers behind. You do everything in your ability to save them." There was a pause as I took a few heaving breaths. My next words were just a whisper.

"You don't give up on them, no matter what."

He stared me down for a moment. He looked positively sick. I had never seen him so pale. Wavering on his feet, he let out choked sob.

"Dean, there's nothing left-"

"Yes there fucking is! We can search every inch of the globe for a cure. We can look through every library in every country for a way to gank this fucking ass cloud. We can ask every surviving person who knows what the hell is going on and go from there. There is never nothing left to do."

I was seething now. He was broken. Tired. Done. I could read it in every line on his face, in every wrinkle of his coat. He couldn't keep going. He didn't know what to do. But now I did.

"Come on. Search the cars for gas. There has to be some left around here. I'll look for a gas can. Holler if you find anything." I shouldered off, striding away before he could say anything else.

* * *

It took us hours to find anything. There was a gas can in an old pickup about half a mile away. Nothing in it, though. The cars were empty. Not just the tanks, but the insides too. There weren't many cars out there, so I suspected that they must have been been abandoned after they ran out of gas, since there were no exits in sight and I didn't remember ever seeing any signs for gas stations, or anything. Desperate families weighed down with all their belongings must have trudged for miles to find civilization, only to be met with empty towns and rabbids walking the streets. Sucks that they didn't leave behind any canned peas or anything, because I was fucking starving.

Cas had poofed hours ago. Said he was going to search the cars a mile down, but the persistent whispering in my head told me he had left and was never coming back. I couldn't stay out of view of the car, scared that it was going to leave me too. I was growing hopeless. Car after car, coming up with zilch. I didn't know if I could take traveling by foot again. After those weeks of aimless wandering with psychos, running from the impending cloud of darkness, I wasn't sure if I could do it all again, in the dark this time. There was nowhere to go now. Nothing but the dim glow of fire at our backs and the endless sea of nothing ahead. At least the car threw the glare of the headlights on the road before us. I didn't even have a flashlight now.

I had my head stuck in the backseat of a trashy minivan when I heard it. A sickening _thump!._ I stood up straight, hand bracing myself on the sliding door, holding my breath, praying that I was just hearing things.

But there it was again.

And it was coming from the car.

 _Our_ car.

I was up and running in a second, heart beating in my throat again as I-

Everything slammed to a halt as I froze in my tracks.

He was there, in the window, looking at me.

He was awake.

He was screaming.

"Dean!" I could hear him straight through the glass. He was banging his head against it. "Dean, get me out! Get me out!"

His voice was shrill, hysterical in a way I hadn't heard since. . .since I was being attacked by the hellhounds. He was begging for someone to save me.

"Dean! HELP ME!"

I found myself walking to the car, standing outside the window. Whether it was out of morbid curiosity, I'm not sure, but I couldn't take my eyes off him.

"Dean, oh God, please, you have to help me! Get me out of here. Please, oh please. Let me go. I have to get out. I have to get out!" He was pleading as if it were for his life. He would never do that.

"Dean, get me out of here. Get me out before they get me. They're gonna get me, Dean. Dean? Dean, get me out!" He was staring right at me, eyes like a wounded puppy's, tone growing more agitated by the second, punctuated with the cracks of his skull against the window. "DEAN!"

And as he paused for a breath, confusion growing on his face, I could see a thin trail of dark blood drip from his nose.

I fell back in disbelief, hand going to my mouth as I stumbled away, despair twisting in my stomach as Sam suddenly snapped, rage growing in his eyes as I retreated from him.

"Dean? Dean, don't leave me here! Dean, you son of a bitch, don't you fucking leave me in here!" He resumed his banging, slamming his head so hard against the window, I was surprised it didn't break. "You selfish _asshole_! How dare you fucking leave me in here! You wouldn't save your own fucking brother-"

I was pressing my hands to my ears but I could still hear him. "You'd run off and fuck your angel slut but you wouldn't save me? Your fucking whore ass cares more about scoring it than saving me, than stopping the apocalypse! You know, if I knew you cared this little about me, I would have slit your throat on day one! I don't need your fucking-"

I looked up at the abrupt silence to see Cas knocking Sam out with his Vulcan nerve pinch, hand clamped over Sam's mouth as his eyes closed and his body went limp.

As he let Sam's body slump down in the seat, he looked down at the black blood smeared on his hands, breathing heavily as he finally met my eyes through the window, wilting forward wearily, visibly spent, and I could only stare back in horror.

* * *

 **Hello everyone. Sorry for however long it has been since I last updated. I really don't know. I haven't been having the best year so far. I was very sick for two weeks, and missed a whole week of school because I had pneumonia, and I have spent pretty much every free hour of the last week trying to catch up on all my work. But I am finally all caught up now, and I am feeling a lot better, so I am back to writing again, which I am really happy about. I missed it so much while I was sick. I came up with all these crazy fevered ideas for stories that I never wrote down, and I'm really regretting that, because they could have been really funny.**

 **Also, if you really like apocalypse fics like this one, I would really recommend you read Bluebell by leevass, because it is a fucking amazing story and I love it very much. It's only three chapters in but I am already obsessed with it. It is soooooooo good.**

 **And as always, remember that reviews are like precious antibiotics to a sick person. They will probably die a terrible and easily preventable death without them.**


	15. Not With a Whimper But a Bang

_**.**_

 _ **Knee deep, trodden into the frothy ocean waves**_  
 _ **Sopping wet, humming to the echoing ebb and flow**_  
 _ **Arms up, beckoning the sun to swallow him whole**_  
 _ **Eyes closed, heart turned towards the stars**_

 _ **He wonders if this is the end.**_  
 _ **Wonders if he has found an edge of the Earth to drop off of.**_  
 _ **The salty water tastes like redemption on his tongue.**_  
 _ **He wants to drown in it.**_

* * *

 _ **Warning: I probably should change this story to M, because this chapter is probably not appropriate for anyone to read. Gore, vulgar language, intense stuff, some mild sexual references (but no shipping, this is not a romance).**_

 _ **And yes, I can see you there, ghost reader, reading and not reviewing. I would really appreciate if you shared your opinions on this story with me. I'm really interested what you think of it.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 15- Not With a Whimper But a Bang**_

I couldn't breath.

The car had been filled to the brim with black sludge and I couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't move to do anything about it.

Everything had been carved from my body like a kid's Halloween jack-o-lantern. My insides were spilled on the side of a road somewhere a million miles back.

All I remember was the sickening slosh of gas in the faded gas can, Cas's scuffed dress shoes toeing my boots as hands clamped around my arms and dragged me to my feet. Gravel scraped against my knees, legs like broken stilts as I attempted to stand, only to be shoved into the front seat of the car, face pressing into the cold leather as the door was slammed behind me with a curt "Drive."

That seemed to be all I knew how to do anymore. My numb hands slithered their way over the dashboard to their place on the steering wheel, foot a heavy weight on the pedal as I floored it, tires spinning and engine roaring as I sped forward without control.

I watched as his form grew smaller in the rearview mirror, until he was just a dot off in the Darkness, and then I blinked and he was gone. It only took a few beats for the sinking realization to set in that he was never coming back.

Then blood started seeping from the air vents and I was drowning in seconds.

* * *

 _"Dean, just go ahead. I'll stay back and look for food. You are starving. You won't last much longer without food. I'll find something for you, just go and get a head start, I'll meet back with you soon. Just get in the car and drive."_

That's what he had said. He shook me awake where I had slumped to the ground beside the car, slapped my cheeks and held my head upright so I would look at him. His eyes, so intense in that moment, stared straight into my soul and prayed that I was understanding what he was saying.

But it was in that moment that I realized that I wasn't squatting on the cold ground by the car, gravel digging into my palms and head wanting to topple off my shoulders, no, because through the haze I could feel the chapped leather headrest chafing my scalp, hear the rumble of the car engine, see the faint glow of the headlights on the road as a black figure came into view and slammed into the hood of the car.

My foot pounded on the break and we snapped forward. My head smacked against the steering wheel. There were no air bags. I could feel my skull crack, shatter like an egg shell. Everything went black, but I could still feel my hand gripping the wheel as I slumped over, and then we started spinning. Like a carousel ride, round and round, a tornado of screeching tires and scraping metal. My head was pounding. The body rolled heavily across the roof, pitching off the side and getting devoured by the wheels. I fell across the floorboards as the back of the car flew into the air, the whole body listing like a ship in a storm as the back wheels met back with the pavement, suspension springing back like a kid on a trampoline.

And then it all stopped.

It all settled down like gentle snow as the wheels stopped turning and the engine pittered out and the world went silent again.

* * *

My head was being jackhammered. It wasn't an oh-shit-I-had-a-few-too-many-drinks kind of headache. It was an oh-my-God-I-think-my-brain-is-leaking-out-of-my-skull, teeth-grinding, gut-clenching, hospital-serious head ache. I'd only ever experienced something like it once, when I'd been pushed out a third story window by a shit-grinned vampire who thought it was so funny that little thirteen-year-old me had challenged her with a tiny butterfly knife when she had me cornered. One dumb giggle and a heavy shove later, I was in the hospital getting treated for a severe head injury-

"Dean!"

Suddenly a window was thrown open and the world was laid out upon the ubiquitous window sill, metaphorical light blinding me, morning breeze feigning warmth even though I was frozen down the bone.

And as I pitifully searched for the switch to turn it all off, I became painfully aware that I was not in fact in a dream, was not holed up safely in a hospital room, was not curled up on my precious memory foam, and definitely was not experiencing the last few golden moments of a one-nighter with a hot chick.

"Dean!"

No, I was twisted up uncomfortably under the dash of the car, face pressed into the dirt-encrusted floor mats, pedals poking into my spine like loose bed springs.

"Dean!"

It was dark. With my blurred vision, I could only see a gray glow that fell over the seats and the black shadows that covered me like a thick, suffocating blanket.

"Dean!"

My shaking arms could barely lift me as I tried in vain to sit up. The movement made my stomach churn, vertigo sending my head spinning, and I barely had enough time to shove open the door and drag myself over the edge before I was dry heaving onto the side of the road. I was empty. I only spit up some stomach acid that burned my throat and left a sour taste in my mouth. Blood dripped on the pavement as I slumped in the doorway; I had to blink it out of my eyes. It was on my hands, set into the lines of my fingers like paint. No matter how much I tried to wipe it away, there was always more, seeping into my eyes and dripping off my eyelashes, pooling in my palms.

" _Dean_!"

"God, what?" I fumed, turning around.

I was hit with the site of a very terrified Sam peering over the seat, staring at me, and suddenly I felt as if I couldn't breathe.

"Dean! Dean, please help me." His voice was so quiet, barely a whisper between shallow breaths.

I was sitting up in a second, clumsily grasping onto arm rests and glove compartment handles as I stared up at him cautiously. "Sam?" His face creased at the recognition, and suddenly I was transported to late nights years ago in musty hotel rooms when a little Sam shook me awake in wake of haunting nightmares, wide eyes glowing in the moonlight as he begged to sleep in my bed. The look of relief on his face as I mumbled a tired reply and lifted up the covers always struck me as something between a rescued kitten and overly grateful puppy, but now as the look plastered itself over his face, I felt nothing but a heavy pit of dread forming in my hollowed stomach.

"You have to help me, please."

"Help you from what?"

His voice broke as a sob broke through his facade. "Dean, he's back. He's back to get me, Dean. Please help me." He was growing hysterical, face as red as a beet, snot dribbling from his nose.

His tears were black.

Sitting back against the dashboard and muffling my gasp with a bloody hand, the words slipped from my mouth. "Who's back? Sam, who is back?"

" _Him_! He's in my head again. He's whispering in my ear. He won't stop, Dean. Please, make him stop." He dropped his head on the top of the seat, shoulders shaking with his heaving breaths as he continued to cry. I couldn't move.

"Sam?" I held my breath. "Sam, you know he's been gone for years, right? We locked Lucifer up-"

" _DON'T YOU DARE SAY HIS NAME!"_

My head slammed against the window as I jumped back in shock, only adding to the growing thunderous ache squeezing my brain. I was rushing to wipe the blood out of my eyes as Sam inhaled slowly.

"He's back," He growled through gritted teeth. "He's back and he won't stop whispering in my damn ear, so I would appreciate it if you would untie me and do something about it!"

It was the most coherent thing he'd said in days, and he glared me right down to my soul as he did it. I was immediately reminded of just how much bigger he was than me, just how weak I was from hunger and lack of sleep, just how much my concussion was limiting my ability to stay conscious. My hand discreetly reached for the door handle and gripped it tight.

My head shook minutely as I stumbled over my words, tongue fat in my mouth. "S-Sam . . .uh, Sam, you. . .you know I can't do that."

Silence filled the air as he stared at me dumbfoundedly, as if he truly didn't understand what I was saying. My fingers tightened around the handle as I swallowed hard, counting the beats as the seconds ticked on, stretching into what felt like hours. More warm blood dripped into my vision, but I didn't dare make a move to wipe it away.

He then promptly leaned forward and threw up black sludge all over the back seat.

I jumped up, eyes wide, instinctively moving to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but quickly stopping in my tracks, hand hovering in the air as I watched in abhorrence the scene before me.

He curled in on himself, each heave like a punch in the stomach. It spewed from his mouth, black like pitch, thick like a death smoothie, all over himself, all over the seat, all over the floor mats, everywhere. It seemed never ending. When the hurling stopped and he finally sat up, panting and spitting, he just keeled over again and blew more chunks. It was all I could do to just sit and observe, sickened myself at the thought that those were his _organs_. His insides were rotting out and he was throwing them up. And he was still alive.

My only consolation when he finally passed out in his own sick was when I pressed my fingers to his neck and found that his heart was still beating.

* * *

He woke up soon after.

Well, it could have been hours. It could have been days. But considering that the needle on the gas meter had barely moved and the wound on my head was still bleeding, I was assured that he had only passed out from exhaustion and not from lack of working organs.  
"Dean, where are we?" Were the first words he uttered, tired and low like he had dozed off in the middle of a long haul across the country for a case.

Words stuck in my throat as I saw him sit up in the rearview mirror, coat soaked black and face painted with the stuff. He seemed unaware of the fact.

"We find any food?"

My mouth was dry, too dry, and I couldn't find the strength to speak. He was looking me over my shoulder questioningly, as if I were the one acting strange. As if I was the only one who remembered all the things he had said, everything he did.

"C-Cas's looking." My voice shook.

"Well, good, 'cause I'm starving."

 _I would probably guess so, since you just puked your literal guts out._ I fidgeted in my seat, hands gripping the wheel more tightly. I didn't know how he couldn't see the mess in his seat, feel it on his skin. It smelled awful. Like decaying bodies and shit-filled dumpsters. I was growing more and more tempted to just get out and walk, but the more figures I glimpsed on the sides of the roads, the harder I pressed on the gas, wishing to keep them in rearview mirror.

As I watched him gaze out the window, I wondered if he was really seeing Lucifer before. Was it just a hallucination brought on by the sickness? Or had things gotten so shitty that Lucifer was really out and about and fucking with Sam? There was no way of telling anymore, but part of me prayed it was just more hallucinations.

"You know you never apologised for getting us into this mess."

The words were so sharp and so sudden that I almost swerved into a passing rabid trying to set myself right.

"This is all your fault, you know. If you hadn't gotten the fucking Mark of Cain in the first place, we wouldn't be in this shit show right now." Sam was sagging in the back corner, head pressed to the fogged window, staring out of it, bored, like he would on long road trips as a sulky teen, refusing to talk or acknowledge our presence.

My hands felt numb, more numb than usual. "Uh, I-I had to kill Abbadon."

"Bullshit. You got it 'cause you fucking wanted it. You wanted that power, you craved it. I could see it in your eyes. You felt weak, powerless, so you stole one of the most destructive weapons known to man and begged and pleaded to Cain to give you the power to wield it." He paused. "You were so. . .content. It was like that sword was made for you. You hacked and sawed and killed with no remorse and _loved_ it."

My breath was caught in my chest. I didn't know how to react. I mean, Sam had never confronted me with these thoughts before. He wasn't the confronting type. He also wasn't the type to go all Norman Bates on me, but the natural order of things really didn't seem to give a fuck about that right now.

"Would have helped if you had let me fucking die a long time ago and closed the gates of Hell. Actually, none of this would have happened if you just had happened to accidentally smother me as a baby. You could have had a normal life if you just let me die in that fire. No demons, no angels, no apocalypses, no annoying little brothers. But you never could have let that happen could you," he sprung forward, mouth going to my ear, "because you always have to be the knight in shining armor and save the day. Because you are too afraid to suck it up and face the world on your own. Because you spent your entire life holding onto Daddy's hand and now you don't know how to live without him. Because you're like a little shit-eating dog with separation anxiety who's too scared to just take himself out when he's left alone for too long. You have to keep bringing me back from the dead just to go to sleep at night, because you're too terrified that you'll pee the bed and have to clean it up yourself.

"Well, Dean, what are you gonna do now? No one's gonna wave a wand and fix this all for you this time. You're gonna have to put on your big boy pants and do it yourself. Or you can just sit and jerk yourself off as the world dies in front of you. There's not many people left, Dean, what happened to wanting to save all the innocent people from the things that go bump in the night? The family business, right? I thought Daddy had pounded that into you a long time ago. Seems you've forgot, though, since you've caused the deaths of more humans than any other killer in history. More than Hitler, more than Stalin, more than Genghis Khan. Nothing's ever been able to wipe out the whole human race before, but seems like you are going for the title. Too bad kids won't get to read about you in their history textbooks, _'cause they'll all be fucking dead._ "

He spit the last part in my ear before falling back into his seat with a sickly smirk on his face as I flinched away.

"Maybe _I_ should have smothered _you_ in _your_ sleep. They all said that I would be the one to bring the end of the world, but they sure fucking had it coming." He paused, chuckling, spatting some more sludge onto the carpet. "They thought you were pure, that you were the heavenly host for Michael's tiny cock. They thought _you_ would save the world. You've fucked the world over more times than I can count. And now you're vying for the win. You want to take the world and everyone on it down with you, you want to go out with a bang so the universe will know that you're the one who took the the world out in one shot before it had a chance to fight back. You want to hold the Earth in your hand and have the power to snuff it out whenever you want. You were so strung for power that killed the whole world searching for it."

I couldn't feel my arms. My hands were gripping the wheel so tight that I was sure my muscles would snap. With each sentence, I was pressing harder on the gas, as if I thought I could outrun him if I only went fast enough. As he talked, tears slowly began to drip down my face, my throat closing up as I tried desperately not to sob, not to make a sound.

"You don't care about any of us. All of us, all the casualties caused by you. Your family, your friends. You never cared about any of us. Mom, Dad, Ellen, Joe, Bobby, Charlie, me. You never loved any of us. You never gave a shit about that whole "family don't end in blood" thing. Because it does end in blood. All your family is dead, because of you. Everyone who was loyal to you, who trusted you to protect them, are dead. And you don't give a fuck. Or else you would have done something to save them. They were all just liabilities to you. They got in the way of you achieving your goal, so you pushed them out of the way, used their bones to climb higher and higher until you had a whole graveyard under your feet. You painted the walls with their blood and stole their hope to light your path of destruction. You left their ashes in your wake, you burnt down their homes so you wouldn't have to be reminded of them, and you never looked back."

His voice was in my ear again and I squeezed my eyes shut as his tongue licked up my earlobe.

"You didn't need the sword or the Mark to have a lust for death. You had it in you all along."

And I didn't need to look at the speedometer to see we were going too fast. I could feel the road speeding beneath us; the wheel was trembling in my hands. The gas pedal was pressed to the floor but my foot was still pressing harder. As Sam began his next statement, so close, his breath so hot on my skin, I was taken over by sudden urge so great that I couldn't deny it. I couldn't sit to hear another one of Sam's wretched words. I couldn't live another minute in this dead world, I couldn't live to see it come to an end.

So, I opened my eyes to get one more glimpse what was left of the world before I jerked the wheel to the left, sending us flying into the air.

* * *

There was screaming and cracking and snapping and squealing and shattering and scratching and black.

And then there was silence.

I opened my eyes as the choking breath of cold air stung that my lungs brought the heavy realization dawn on me like a freezing rain.

I saw Cas. He was standing over me, eyes pained and face creased in concern. I was on my back, lying on soft carpet in a dim room that was oh so quiet. No one said a word, as if if anyone made a sound, the ephemeral peace would shatter and all hell would break loose.

Tears still lined my cheeks. Blood still stained my fingers. But I was intact. Not a scratch on me. Not dead on impact, like I had prayed for. I was alive.

But that persistent sinking feeling grew in my stomach when I realized Cas was standing in front of a wilting bed, when he shook his head at me with shining eyes and bared fists dripping with black blood. And as I crawled past him, pushing him to the side, hands getting tangled in his coat, I saw him lying there, lying on the bare mattress, unconscious and painted in black, face dirty but so peaceful in a way that made my insides twist.

I pressed my face into Cas's coat, letting out a sob as he sank down to my level, grabbing my shoulders with shaking hands and holding me up, fingers digging into my arms as he tried to get my attention.

"D-Dean," he whispered, "Dean, we need to make decision about this. We-we. . .we need to-"

"Why do you keep bringing me back?" I sniffled, finally meeting his eyes. They looked hopelessly lost, searching my face for answers that just weren't there.

He looked away. "Dean, I-I. . .the world needs you. You are the only one who can save it."

I shoved him away, wobbling to my feet and striding to the other side of the dingy hotel room Cas had zapped us to.

"I damned this world to hell! I let the Darkness out, and there's nothing left to do." I whipped back around to stare him down where he stood unsteadily by the bed. "There's no one left to save."

"Yes there is Dean. There are still people left, people immune to the infection, people who can be cured-"

"There is no cure! Don't you know that? Nothing we could do could ever fix this. The Darkness is too powerful, the world is too far gone, and there's nothing we can do except put ourselves out of our misery or sit and watch it all go down."

I was seething, chest heaving and face hot. I wanted to punch something, destroy something, burn something down, revel in its warmth, bask in its glow, kick up its ashes. I felt like I was going to explode with all the cataclysmic every running through my veins.

"What about Sam?" And Cas was standing there, looking up at me with vanquished eyes, shoulders slumped and head hanging low, so small and beaten down compared to the almighty angel he once was.

"You've never let him go. Why now? I've seen you fight your way through the deepest pits of Purgatory just to get back to your brother. You sacrificed shutting the gates of Hell just to keep him by your side. You spent forty years in Hell just so he could live on. You have always sacrificed everything to save Sam, so why give up now?"

I was at a loss for words. Sam had always messed shit up when he was just trying to do the right thing. He let Lucifer out of hell, he got tangled up in the trials, he got Charlie involved with the Steins, he helped let the Darkness loose. Those were all sins forgiven, but now. . .now he had burnt the bunker down; he killed Haleigh. He was dying, sick, infected with this virus made to bring the end of the world. In times like this, I had always cured him, whether it was with the Lucifer hallucinations or the demon blood addiction, I always fixed him. But now. . .

"I-I don't know what to do. . ." I felt light headed, as if a giant hand had reached into my chest and gripped my lungs in its fist. I fell against the wall, sliding down until I met the hard ground, suddenly so cold and rough. My hands moved to my face, running through my hair and pulling on it tight, trying so desperately to swallow the tears welling up in my throat because I was so fucking tired of crying.

I heard Cas's shoes scuffle along the carpet as he crossed the room, hand falling on my shoulder as he lowered himself beside me, squeezing it lightly. It was quiet for a moment, and all I could hear was Sam's light breathing a few feet away, and with Cas's consoling hand on my shoulder and his presence by my side, I almost felt okay for a few seconds.

Taking a deep breath, I raised my head from my hands and stared at the wall across from me.

"Why is this happening?"

"What?"

"All of this shit." I waved my hand around.

He paused for a beat, letting out a long sigh. I turn to him to see him gazing over at Sam's limp form on the bed cordially, as if reliving past memories, past apocalypses.

"It's hard to say. Obviously, this was initially caused by the Darkness being unleashed upon the universe once again, but it is only up to speculation as to why the Darkness has chosen to do what is has done. From my observations and previous knowledge, I know the Darkness is an almost omnipotent entity. It is what filled the void of space before God created the universe. It isn't motivated by human or animal instincts, like most beings you have fought. It runs on something else completely. What that is, though, is impossible to know."

He tore his eyes away from Sam to turn to me. "Now, I have been studying the Earth since the Darkness was released, and I have been able to draw some conclusions based on the circumstances. Take into consideration that the first thing that occurred was a total loss of power and complete blockage of sunlight. It took away everything that made humans powerful. Their inventions, their technology, their source of life. This would immediately eliminate the sick and injured in hospitals and raise the probability of the spread of infection and viruses, since there is no access to hygienic waste disposal or proper medical treatment.

"Next would come the famine. Anyone who didn't have knowledge of the hunting and preparation of food would die of starvation after the remaining food ran out. The lack of light and precipitation wouldn't allow more crops to be grown, and all residual plant life would die off quickly. This would kill off all the herbivores, which in turn would leave no source of food for the carnivores, meaning there is a finite amount of food left on the planet, even if the human meat is utilized."

I shivered, thinking about the poor boy who was carved up and eaten by his own mother.

"So, you might think that the Darkness may have wanted to starve the planet out and kill all remaining life on it, perhaps to spite God, which is what I had originally conjectured, but we then came to the conclusion that the Darkness had removed all of the monsters from the Earth. At first I was confused. Why would the Darkness do that if it just wanted to eradicate the Earth of all its life? Surely it would be pleased that the monsters were killing off so many humans. But then I realized that that wasn't its main goal. No, it hated God. It must, since he was the one to defeat it and confine it to a cell for eons. It must have known him, known of his love for the humans he created, because it targeted them specifically. It removed everything that held together their civilization, what set them apart from his other creations. It forced them into desperation and squalor, where they were reduced to revert back to their primal instincts. It tore them down from their pedestal, fleshed them out for God to see, and made sure he could watch but not intervene as they destroyed themselves."

Something cold settled in my chest as he went on, lines connecting and pieces fitting together in ways that were never clear before.

"The Darkness wants humanity to annihilate itself through its own nature. It took out the week and feeble, removed any distractions and complications, so that the people would be the main event. It sped up the process by infecting the remaining with a virus that didn't kill, but rotted the mind until the host was no longer themself, until they turned on their friends and family and killed them or drove them to insanity themselves." He finally took a moment to process, looking down at his intertwined fingers thoughtfully. My head was spinning.

"I believe is was the scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer that said 'I am become death, the destroyer of worlds' when he saw the first nuclear bomb get detonated. The quote was taken from an old Hindu script in which the god Vishnu reveals his true form to persuade a man to push on with his army, and utters the phrase. I guess Oppenheimer thought it was proper for the occasion, considering that he and his associates had just invented a weapon powerful to destroy life itself." He chuckled weakly, a grimace twisting on his face. "I guess if I were the Darkness, I would find it appropriate to say right now too."

I was silent. There was nothing to say. I just breathed and stared at the dried and cracked blood on my palms.

My eyes found their way to his, and as I was met with the sorrow that carved itself into his features, I couldn't stop the words from jumping out of my mouth.

"I'll find a way to stop this, Cas, I promise.

* * *

 **⊙_⊙ . . .Okay. . .that was an intense chapter. I really don't know what to say. I surprised _myself_ writing that. I really didn't know I could write stuff that. . . _dark_. I mean, I planned for all this stuff to happen, but I hadn't come up with what I wanted Sam to say yet. I just started typing and _this_ happened. I got so worked up about it at one point that I just had to step away and calm down. I was actually getting nauseous while writing that throw up part. I just feel. . .tired now. Like I have exhausted all my creative resources and mental stability. This chapter took a lot out of me. I think I might need to just sit and watch some nice inoffensive cartoons for a few days.**

 **And please review. I worked really hard on this chapter and I am tired of getting little to no feedback on this story. I would really like to hear your opinions. But I guess it doesn't matter. No one reads the ANs anyways.**


	16. Hey Jude

_**Lives are not lived**_  
 _ **With silver platters**_  
 _ **Serving up second chances.**_

 _ **Lives are not lived**_  
 _ **With tooth and nail**_  
 _ **Fights to the finish.**_

 _ **Lives are lived**_  
 _ **With seconds ticking**_  
 _ **Until your time is up.**_

* * *

 _ **Warning: All the warnings**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 16- Hey Jude**_

* * *

Kind of funny the weird things you remember when the world is about to end.

Like when Sam was sick that one winter with the flu and landed us cooped up at Bobby's for a month while Dad was off across the country hunting down a shifter. Sam was laid up in bed for a straight week, and spent his few wakeful hours puking in the bathroom across the hall, groaning through fevered dreams, and whining about everything he could. But there was one day in the middle of a monstrous snowstorm when I got him downstairs and huddled up by the fireplace, coaxed out with a warm cup of hot chocolate. He laid there, bundled up in thick blankets, all dopey with his eyes half-closed and mouth hanging open, pale and thin from sickness, smiling softly and still holding that bright look in his eyes that had seemed to have dimmed greatly over the years. We sat together, watching the snow fall in clumps from the pale grey sky, settling over the rusting shells of cars and piling up until the only thing you could see was a blanket of blindingly white snow extending on forever, the both of us basking in the peaceful silence and the warm glow of the fire, just taking it all in. I remember sipping my cooling chocolate and looking down at Sam, seeing him grin tiredly at me, hair a mess, small hand gripping his favorite Star Wars mug, and I could couldn't help but laugh and grin back. I don't know what it was about that moment, but I remember thinking _I want to remember this forever_. I can still feel the warmth in my chest just looking back on it.

Another time, years later, driving to Minnesota for a case shortly after Dad died, Sam was slouched in the passenger seat, half-asleep and slightly tipsy, lackadaisically watching the street lamps pass and giggling relentlessly as he told me the story of how he got drunk at a dorm party and made out with a dude. _I swear, I thought he was a chick! What? No, dude, I'm telling the truth! He was just really short. I just pulled away for a second and finally saw his face and my stomach just dropped. I ran out of the party and locked myself in my dorm for the rest of the weekend. It was the most embarrassing thing I've ever done_. That was the first time he had laughed since Jessica died.

Or when I was fourteen and going to my first high school, secretly terrified out of my wits after having grown up watching dumb teen movies about jocks and bullies and prissy cheerleaders. I thought I was hiding my fear well, but little ten-year-old Sam seemed to have caught onto my nervous glances and wringing hands in the hot back seat of the car on the long drive on the first day. _Come on, you dummie. High schoolers don't have claws or sharp teeth. They can't throw you across rooms or bite your leg off. They aren't gonna hurt you._ Something about that helped me get through the month of hell that was my first high school experience.

I smiled sadly, looking down now at the prone form of Sam lying on the lumpy mattress, face still covered in black sick, features sharp in the harsh shadows of the candles, but relaxed and peaceful in a way I hadn't seen in months, years. He still looked so young and innocent in his sleep.

In the cramped and moldy bathroom a cheap razor tucked in the corner of the rusty cabinet brought me back to my first attempt at shaving. I was twelve years old, far too young to be even thinking about having facial hair. But I had seen Dad shave so many times, so I of course wanted to do it too. I was bored, curious, and naïve. All ingredients destined for trouble. So I took Dad's electric razor from the sink top and climbed up on the counter so I could see in the mirror. Let's just say it didn't turn out well. I managed to avoid Freddie-Crugering my face, but I did slice open my finger while toppling off of the sink and slamming my head on the edge of the tub. Sam thankfully came to my rescue only after bursting through the door and scolding me for my stupidity. Totally didn't cry when he sewed up my finger.

As I stared at my gaunt reflection the mirror, felt the hunger that nearly doubled me over in pain, I couldn't help but recall times when hunger had made me do dumb things. Of course, there was the whole Boys Home thing, but there were other times too. Like when I was ten, I pick pocketed a man who just so happened to be a cop when Dad hadn't come back to the motel in weeks. Had to sneak out of the police station when the cop went to the can, sulking home, dreading having to face poor Sammy empty handed once again. I was only fifteen when I was almost beaten to death by a gang of angry bikers I had hustled out of their money in a game of pool. Sam was the one who searched the whole town for me and found me alone, barely breathing in that alley and dragged me all the way home. He was the one who yelled Dad's ear off over the phone that night, demanding he come home, scolding him for leaving us for so long, for leaving us so little money. Even though I was in a boatload of pain and only barely conscious, I couldn't help but be proud of the kid.

The memories came tumbling out like a waterfall, flood gates broken open, releasing a torrent of emotions that settled heavy in my chest like a sickness. I couldn't breathe.

I remembered rolling down indistinct hills dotted with sweet smelling buttercups, knees and elbows stained green and laughter filling the air. I remembered dancing half-drunk with a girl at some prom until I was bone-tired and red in the face. I remembered driving for the first time, straggling along the edges of dirt roads at a walking pace, hands white-knuckling the wheel and Dad guffawing in my ear as I continuously slammed on the Impala's breaks. I remembered meandering around a school library, cheeks red as I tried fruitlessly to get the attention of a certain brown-haired girl I had a hopeless and embarrassing crush on. I remember the first time Sam got hurt on a hunt, scratched up by a scuffle with a particularly annoying poltergeist; I had to keep a straight face as Dad carried his limp body to the car, had to hide my relief when he finally woke up, had to hold myself back from grabbing him and pulling him to my chest, so glad he was safe.

I gripped the edge of the bathroom sink as I heard the bed springs creaking in the other room. My hand went for the doorknob, but there was no lock. I was shaking. I pressed a clenched fist to my mouth to hold in a building scream as I opened the door, terrified of what may lay on the other side. Peeking around the corner into the dim room, I found Sam sitting up on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

He was crying.

As he heard me enter, his head came up, eyes meeting mine, and it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me because I had seen that look so many times before. The first time he cried over Dad leaving. His first day of school when we finally said goodbye and started to walk away. The time he shuffled off the school bus with a black eye and gum in his hair. The one time Dad yelled at him for forgetting to salt the motel room and he shoved himself in the corner so I couldn't see him attempt to wipe his tears away. When I screamed at him for wanting to leave for college and slammed the door in his face when he tried to tell me goodbye. When I found him in the flames and smoke of his apartment and dragged him away from everything he had lost, everything he had worked so hard to get. Broken. Lost. Betrayed. But as I looked down upon his face trailed with black stained tears, I only wanted to run.

"Dean?"

My knees couldn't seem to hold my weight. I held tightly to the door frame as the ground swayed beneath my feet.

"Dean. . . Dean, you have to kill me."

And suddenly I was thrown back to that stuffy hospital room, Dad whispering in my ear the words I would come to dread for the rest of my life, then to Sam, so scared of himself, corrupted by the demon possessing him, begging for me to fulfill those words. Those words just hours ago he was telling me I should have followed, blamed me for bringing on the end of the world when I was just trying to give him the life he deserved.

"No."

I had crawled through the deepest depths of hell to bring him back. I wasn't letting him go again.

"Please, Dean. Just end it already."

I turned away from his glistening eyes, glaring a hole through the tacky wallpaper. "No." My voice cracked. My lips trembled around the word.

"Dean, there's nothing left, nothing left to save. Just end it all. There's no point in going on anymore."

His voice was so steady. So gentle. My eyes were burning, fist tightening around the door frame, nails digging into the soft wood. I swallowed hard, looking to the ceiling and blinking tears away. _God, why does it have to be me?_

"You too much of a bitch to do it?"

I glanced down in confusion only to be met with Sam's face in mine. In a breath I was slammed against the wall behind me, large hands tightening around my throat.

"Fucking pussy can't even take out his own brother? I thought better of you, Dean."

All I could see were his eyes. Bulging out of his skull like ping pong balls, bloodshot and smeared with black tears, wide and wilder than any creature I had ever encountered.

My fingers pried at his until they bled, but they did not move and inch. His hands were like metal clamps, immovable and freezing cold as they pressed into the muscles and bones of my neck.

"Eh, not much to say, I guess. Always were a little socially stunted."

My head was echoing with my internal screams for Cas. My numb hands were fisting in Sam's shirt, desperately trying to push him away as my throat closed up and my vision started to blur. _Goddammit, Cas, why did you have to leave him untied?_

"You know how long I have wanted to die, Dean?" He breathed the words into my face, never blinking, never looking away. " _Long_ before this shit show even began. Long before I even went to hell and got mind-fucked by Lucifer. Long before Dad died, before Jessica, before college. I was thirteen years old. I was abandoned in a dirty hotel room with only a bag of beef jerky and five dollars in change. My dad was piss-drunk at a sleazy bar, my brother was off fucking some slut in an alley somewhere. It was three in the morning. I had no one. I had no friends, no family, no one who cared. I was supposed to grow up to be like my brother, like my drunkard father, destined to hunt down monsters and murder them. To never have a home, to never settle down, to have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. Do you know how heavy a burden that was to carry at only thirteen? Would you expect any young teen to be okay with that? I thought there was only one way out. I was going to shoot myself, Dean. I was going to kill myself to get away from it all. But I didn't, because I came to my senses and realized I could just walk away from it all. And I did. I had a home, a girlfriend, a job. I was happy. And guess who took that all away from me!" His voice rose as he pulled me forward and slammed me against the wall again, and my vision went black.

" _You_ forced me back into this life!" I was thrown into the wall once again. "You brought me back!" Again. "When I got stabbed in the back, you brought me back!" Again. "When I died and went to hell, you brought me back!" Again. "When I got sick after the trials, you brought me back!" Again. My legs fell out from under me, and he released me as I went limp, letting me slide to the ground. "Now, even when the whole whole world has become a fucking graveyard, you still won't let me go!"

He went quiet. As I sucked in the frigid air, he stared down at me, and I could vaguely see his huffing outline as the tingling silence permeated through the room.

"I guess I'll have to do it myself," he muttered, just above a whisper. My heart jumped into my throbbing throat as he turned sharply and strode across the room. I was struggling onto my hands and knees as I heard a gun being cocked, and blinked through the black spots to see him bracing himself on the edge of the mattress as he keeled over to vomit all over the carpet.

I sighed in relief as the gun tumbled to the ground, slumping back against the wall as my head spun like a top. If I had anything in my stomach, I probably would have thrown up as well.

It seemed to take hours for him to stop throwing up. I sat dazedly, still trying to catch my breath, just watching distantly as he continued to barf his insides up. Slumped against that wall in that musty motel room in the middle of a dead and desolate world, watching indifferently as my brother slowly lost his mind, as it dissolved and ran out his ears, down his face like tears. Watched as his muscles went slack and he plunged face first into the sick, lying there, still as a corpse.

* * *

The four years Sam spent at college were the hardest four years of my life. The first few months, Dad was pissed. Constantly. A week post-showdown, Dad still had barely said a word. He threw himself into hunts, one after the other, never taking a break from hacking and slashing and stabbing to even wash the blood from his clothes or sew up his wounds.

It was quiet without Sam. The car felt empty without him in the backseat with his nose stuck in a book or bickering with me about dumb shit. It felt strange not having to ask for an extra cot at hotel desks, felt strange not fighting over who got to shower first in the morning, felt strange seeing the empty space where Sam's bag would usually be placed. Dad was standoffish about it all, huffing when he found one of Sam's old shirts in the trunk, throwing it in the trash, swearing when he accidentally called out for Sam during a hunt and taking his anger out on an innocent tree, getting his knife stuck deep in the trunk. Any time I brought up Sam, he acted as if he didn't exist, as if his betrayal had exiled him off the face of the Earth - well, Dad's Earth, at least.

I tried calling Sam several times, but he must have gotten a new number, because the calls were always dropped. It wasn't just quiet without him, it was difficult. I now had to take on the job of two men, because God forbid Dad work a little but harder than usual. This resulted in multiple stitches, broken bones, heaps of pain meds, and even one trip to the emergency room when I had been knocked unconscious by a nasty rugaru. And that wasn't even Dad's doing. The girl we had saved insisted that I go to the hospital, and an ambulance was there before my Dad could even drag my limp body to the car and speed off.

And then Dad started going out on solo hunts, and I had never felt more alone. Spending hours in the cold silence of the car driving through the night, music doing nothing to relieve the pressure. Lonely nights spent flipping through the channels in hotel rooms, bathed in the flickering light of the television, no one to share jokes with about the dumb soap operas. Limping back to the car after a particularly taxing hunt and having to sew up my own wounds, no snarky quips about my hunting abilities to distract me from the pain. I was pretty sour about it all for a while. At first, I sided with Dad, completely disheartened and angry at Sam for giving up on the life, for giving up on the people we needed to save. But as I saw Dad fall deeper into alcoholism and became more acquainted with the despondent, spiritless community of hunters, I began to realize why he wanted out. I remember overhearing one hunter at a bar saying _You either live this life until it kills you, or live it long enough until you kill yourself._

God knows I have been on either side of that saying far too many times.

Now, as I stood swaying over Sam's limp body tied up to the motel chair, grasping the cold gun in my trembling hand, I had no idea if that saying could even apply to me anymore.

He was still alive. He was still breathing. I had no idea how, considering a good amount of his dissolved organs were smeared all over the molding carpet, more of the black liquid dripping from his mouth and nose. Cas was still gone; having not responded to any of my prayers, I had to assume he was dead, a fact that only made the deep ache in my chest grow ever more agonizing. Like a heart attack that just refused to put me out of my misery.

My finger shook on the trigger. I was so positively lost that I wasn't even sure if the Earth was still spinning. Nothing, _nothing_ could have ever prepared me for this. I have been to every "after" imaginable, spent decades in Hell being ripped apart by demons and stitched together again, spent a year traversing the darkest pits of Purgatory, got a glimpse of the Heaven I would never get to reside in. I've stopped two apocalypses, took the Devil head-on, ganked the big bad leviathan, sliced off the head of the demon Abbadon, and killed Death himself. I've witnessed the deaths of everyone I ever loved, whether by personal sacrifice or brutal slaughter, right before my very eyes. I've been through what I thought was the worst of the worst, but _nothing_ would prepare me for this.

"You know, you could try pointing that thing somewhere useful." Sam spat black sludge at my feet, whipping his greasy hair out of his face. "At my head, between your eyes, maybe."

I just swallowed hard, the pressure feeling like gravel on my sore throat.

"You do understand how fruitless this all is, don't you? This 'trying to save the world' shit. Everything's dead, Dean. There's nothing left, no people to save, no monsters to hunt." He paused, a smirk unfurling on his face. "Little motto doesn't seem to apply when you've killed the whole world."

"No." I croaked, meeting his eyes defiantly. "I'm not playing any of your sick games. You're not Sam, not anymore."

"Then why am I still here?" I wavered at his sudden sharp tone, readjusting my grip on the gun. "Ah, yes, Dean's proverbial abandonment issues. Aren't you getting a little tired of this story? I mean, I can only die so many times before it starts to become cliché. It has to end somewhere."

My fingernails dug into my palms. "You-"

"Still haven't answered my question. Why on Earth would the one and only Dean Winchester try so hard to keep his brother alive when he is already dead?" He leaned forward, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. My eyes fell to the ground, teeth catching on my lip as he hummed with content. I could hear the grin on his face. "Yes, that's right. He won't let him go, because deep down, he knows his brother is still in there, still alive and kicking. How else would Sam know all those delicious things about Dean? He's never told another soul."

I watched the tears fall from my cheeks and plummet to the floor, watched as they darkened the carpet, chest tightening as I fought down a sob.

"I'm all here, Dean, and I've never been more awake."

And suddenly I just couldn't do it anymore.

A cry fell from my mouth as I threw the gun across the room, head falling into my hands as I turned away, anything I could do not to look at him.

"Aww, you gonna cry like a little baby? Gonna cry for your mommy? Too bad she burnt up on the ceiling-"

"Shut up! Shut! Up!" My throat felt like it was bleeding. My face was hot. All I could see red. "I'm gonna save you. I'm gonna fix this all even if it kills me."

"Like I said, there nothing left to fix. There's no point in going on anymore, so if you could just lay off the macho front for a while and-"

I bounded forward and snatched up his jaw in my hand, yanking his face towards mine. "I said shut up."

The light in his eyes was like that of no other. I could see the reflection of fire in his irises.

"Yeah, and I asked you to shoot me in the fucking head. We don't always get our wishes granted."

My fist met his cheek and he was left spitting up a mess of blood and sludge.

"You know," His head hung on his shoulders, hair masking his face, hands twitching uncontrollably on the arms of the chair, "I've always thought you hit like a girl."

As his head lolled back into its place, I finally realized just how sick he looked. So, so thin. I could see every edge and curve of the bones in his face, cheeks hollow, eyes so sunken that the candle light left nothing but deep shadows in the sockets. His skin was white, transparent almost, stretched so tight over his bones that blue veins poked through on his temples, flowed like tributaries across his hands. The skin around his eyes was stained purple from illness and lack of sleep. I couldn't remember the last time he slept.

His face twitched as he tilted his chin up at me. It was like his whole body was being zapped with electricity, causing his muscles to tense up erratically, but he didn't seem to be phased by it. The Cheshire grin on his face stayed true through it all.

"I don't know how I'm gonna convince you." He frowned and shrugged his shoulders. "You always were the stubborn one."

"I'm not going to fall for this, so you can go ahead and shut your mouth."

"But where's the fun in that? I've been quiet for so long, Dean. You've always said I need to be more open. All it took was an apocalypse and a monster sickness to get me to finally put my mind on my sleeve." He dipped his head to the side so the black sludge from his ear dripped onto his shoulder. And then he threw his head back and _laughed_.

I fell onto the edge of the mattress, fists pressing into my eyes as my head pounded like a jack. God, oh God, what was I supposed to do?

"Dean-o, you know praying will do you no good. God's long dead. The Darkness killed him a long time ago."

I pressed my hands over my ears, wishing to hear anything but _his_ voice.

"Oh, come on! You really think that's going to make a difference? I didn't think you were that childish!"

And suddenly I was wishing I was back in that car again, going ninety and speeding towards oblivion. I wished Cas had been a minute too late and had found nothing but a steaming pile of metal and had just turned and ran. I wished I had burned up in that fire, had been turned to nothing more than a pool of ash, had been killed by that crazed woman in that supermarket, had been carved up by that zombified college student so long ago. I wished I had just followed through with Death's plan, wished I had never gotten that God-forsaken Mark in the first place. Nothing was worth _this_.

I remember when Sammy was born. Most of my memories from that time have faded away over the years, but that day stands out clear in my mind. It was early in the morning. The sun hadn't even risen yet. Dad came into my room short of breath and red faced, but smiling brightly as he ushered me out of bed. I jumped up and got dressed in about ten seconds flat, grabbing my bag I had had packed for months waiting for this day, stuffed full of unnecessary extra clothes and toys I was excited to share with the new baby. Dad followed me as I bounded down the steps, bag in tow, and hopped into the car, where Mom was already strapped in, eye squeezed shut and face red too as she gripped her swollen stomach. I obviously didn't really know what was going on at the time, Dad telling me that the baby was 'just really excited to be born' so I would stop asking questions. The car drive was hectic, Mom screaming thought several contractions, Dad nervously making wrong turns and repeatedly asking if the baby was coming, but we finally made it. As Mom was wheeled to her room, Dad and I settled into the waiting room, and the next few hours were torture to a hyper little four year old. But the wait was well worth it when we were finally allowed back and I got to meet my new little brother. I was confused at first, because I didn't see any baby, but when Dad lifted me up to sit on the bed next to Mom, I peered down at the bundle in her arms to see the tiniest little baby I had ever seen. I had fully expected him to be the same size as me, so when the microscopic kid was carefully placed in my arms, I was beyond confused. I remember the first thing out of my mouth when I got to hold him was _Why does he look like a potato?_ and my parents laughed and smiled down at me and I was was absolutely beaming at the little thing that was my new brother.

"Kill me! Just fucking kill me already you cowardly fuck!"

I remember the first time Sam crawled. He he had just turned five months old, and I was with him and Mom in the back garden, snacking on sandwiches and playing in the leaves. I had already raked up a substantial leaf pile, and Mom was giggling as she watched me roll around in it, Sam playing with a toy truck in her lap. It had taken me a long time to accept that little Sammy wasn't going to be able to play with me for a while, but I had been happy just being able to make him laugh by making dumb faces from afar. When Mom had placed him down on the picnic blanket for a moment to run inside to answer the phone, I started to throw leaves in the air and jump around to get a laugh out of him. He gave me a toothless grin, clapping his tiny hands together, and I couldn't help but feel accomplished. When he got on all fours and started making his wobbling way over to me, though, it felt as if I had won the world's best brother award. I was cheering and egging him on a and he stumbled forward at a snail's pace, still proud even when he fell on his face. When Mom came back out, she gasped and frantically called in Dad from the garage, and they both came running out practically glowing with pride as they watched their youngest crawl all the way across the yard by himself. And when he reached me, I scooped him up into my arms and gave him a big kiss on the head, and is swear I couldn't stop smiling.

"KILL ME! BLOW MY BRAINS OUT, GODDAMMIT! PUT ME OUT OF MY FUCKING MISERY!"

I remember the night my mother died. Before the fire, before the screaming and the smoke and the sirens. I had had another nightmare, stricken from bed by visions of shadowy figures and long, scraping claws. I had dragged my blanket along with me through the dark halls, searching for my mother through the sound of pitiful wailing and static filled televisions. She was in Sam's room, desperately trying to lull him into sleep as he cried and cried and cried. She told me to go back to sleep, but I pushed out my lip and batted my big eyes, which must have struck a chord with her, because she set the whining Sam down in his crib, kneeling down beside me and bringer her soft hands to my cheeks, giving me a look that soothed me to the soul. She picked me up, swathing me in my blanket as she carried me to my room, placing me in my bed and curling up next to me. She held me tight in her arms, brushing the hair from my forehead with gentle fingers, singing Hey Jude into my ear as I drifted in a peaceful sleep in her grasp. I woke up only hours later the the sound of roaring flames a my father's voice telling me to get up and run.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH, JUST KILL ME! KILL ME!"

I dragged myself from the mattress, each foot weighing a ton as I trudged over to the corner, each step feeling like climbing a mountain.

"YOU'RE GOING TO ROT IN HELL DEAN WINCHESTER, YOU FUCKING PUSSY!"

I could barely see through my tears, could barely breath over my sobs as I fell to my hands and knees, groveling on the ground as I groped around blindly, desperately.

"JUST PULL THE TRIGGER, DEAN! YOU'RE NOT DOING THE WORLD A FAVOR BUY LIVING ANY LONGER!

My hand closed around something cold, numb skin sticking to the surface like glue. I gripped it tight in my shaking hands like it was the Queen's crown, wobbling to my unsteady feet and turning to face him again.

"KILL ME! KILL ME ALREADY! KILL ME, DEAN. JUST DO IT!"

I blinked the tears from my eyes as I met his, almost completely engulfed in the black ooze, face red from screaming, chest heaving as he waited, waited.

"JUST DO IT!"

I closed my eyes as I lifted the gun and pulled the trigger, letting it drop from my hand as the world finally went silent.

* * *

The fire was the warmest thing I had felt in a lifetime.

It had taken hours to build. Gathering enough wood was nearly impossible. Everything had died and crumbled to dust a long time ago. Cas appeared a few hours in, empty handed and completely stricken at the sight. We didn't speak, didn't look at each other. He just began helping, stacking more disintegrating wood onto the pile in silence. I was barely standing by the time we finished, so, so tired and already into the first stages of starvation. We lugged the body, covered only in dirty motel sheets, up onto the top with a bit of struggle. I stood heart-weary at the base for a few moments, taking in the lumpy, blackened sheets and hastily built pier, complete frozen by the feeling of lead in my veins and the fear of finally letting go.

As I turned to Cas, I found him staring back, eyes like a mirror reflecting my own sorrows. I nodded, gaze falling back to the pier as he snapped, causing it to go up in flame. And I stood there, taking in the searing heat of the flames, watching them lick the sheets, send them dissolving into embers that flew up into the black sky, smelling the all too familiar gut-churning scent of burning flesh, listening to the wood snap and crack. I stood there, stoic, hands in my pockets, watching my brother's body burn, holding it all together until everything just split at the seams and I was collapsing into Cas's arms, sobbing into his shoulder as my last remaining piece of hope went up in flames, and I just could take it anymore.

Cas guided me to the ground as my knees went out from under me, held me to his chest in the dirt for hours as I cried every tear I had left.

And as we sat there in the dimming glow of the fire, when sound died down and the silence closed itself around the Earth once again, I knew we were the only ones left.

* * *

 **The End.**

 **Wow. Okay. I am totally not crying.**

 **I really don't know what to say. This was the biggest project I have ever taken on, the first project I have ever finished completely and been proud of. That's a huge accomplishment for me. I mean, this took me just over a year to write, which is way too long for 16 chapters, and has spanned over one of the most turbulent and difficult years of my life. This all started out as a little idea for a one-shot i had, and turn into this hulking monstrosity. I have never written anything so dark and depressing and mentally taxing. And while it isn't my best work (this is a rough draft at best), I am still proud of myself for staying dedicated and following this through to the end. (You guys really aren't understanding how big of an accomplishment this is for me).**

 **I truly feel sad now that this is finished. This world was where I could experiment with my writing style and dialogue and point of view and such, it was were I could take out my anger about Supernatural, and it was just a place where I could go when I was in a dark mood. I absolutely loved talking to you all in the reviews (back when people actually reviewed this story), and I really hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I did, and although it is depressing as fuck, I really hope that it changed you in some way, because it really changed me. I'm really going to miss this.**

 **But don't worry. I am not vanishing off of the face of the Earth. I have more stories planned! Well, a one-shot series, actually. I have a few chapters written, and a few ideas written down, but I am hoping that you all will be able to submit me some ideas for one-shots I can write. I am super excited, because I really want to experiment with a bunch of different writing stuff, and I really need to stop writing about only death and depression, so will be posting the first chapter soon, and there will be more details about submissions there, so if you are interested, follow me or just keep an eye on my profile because that should be going up soon.**

 **And please, don't forget to review. Out of all the chapters, I want to hear your feedback on this one the most. Were you expecting the ending? I was really trying to keep it up in the air. Are you going to hate me for all of eternity for putting the characters you love through torture? Do you think I'm literally insane? Make sure to tell me in the reviews.**

 **And as always, remember that reviews are like fic endings. Sometimes they can be nice, sometimes they can make you cry, but most of the time, they make you really happy and make you want to squeal really loud.**


	17. IMPORTANT MESSAGE!

Hello, everyone! You might be thinking "Oh my god this bitch tricked me I thought I was getting another update", but no, I just wanted to pop in and tell you guys about something that I have been planning for a while. So, the one year anniversary for the publishing of the final chapter of this story is coming up, as well as my spring break, and I've been in the process of rewriting a few of the beginning chapters because overall I just wasn't happy with them. I want this story to be seen at its fill potential, because it's probably my favorite thing I've ever written, and the only reason I didn't put excerpts from it in my portfolio for art school is because it's a fucking Supernatural fanfiction. So. . . I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this.

Around mid-March I plan to release the first rewritten chapter of this fic on Wattpad and ao3, because I just wanted to put it somewhere new with new people and and formats and whatever. Hopefully I will have enough chapters set up to update every week, but you all know how unreliable I can be about these things. And don't worry, it's not going to be a bunch of the same stuff rehashed again. I've been changing up a lot of stuff, fixing some mistakes you all pointed out in the reviews and taking some suggestions from you on how to make it better, and my writing is a lot better than it was two years ago, so you can be assured that it's going to be a new experience.

I've just been in a rut lately. With college applications and finishjng up senior year, I had to make the choice to put writing to the side for the time being. But things are starting to slow down and I'm taking baby steps back into the world of writing. Once I finish these last college essays and this research project I have, I should be able to get back around to writing, especially with spring break coming up, and I'll have a lot more free time.

So if there is miraculously still people following this story, make sure to check in my other accounts. On ao3 my username is bellatrix_la_dumb, and on Wattpad I'm nightmare-vision. I have a couple other short stories and collections of poetry on Wattpad that are similar to my other stuff, if you're interested. Just be warned that they aren't finished either because of my school-pressured break. If you are wondering about the fate of my one-shot series, I posted an update on there too.

Hopefully I'll see you in a few weeks!


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